LIBRARY  OF  THE  THEOLOGICAL  SEMINARY 

PRINCETON,  N.  J. 

PRESENTED  BY 

Mrs.  Huston  Dixon 


Division 
Section  _ 


P.Z.3 

SS.31S 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE, 
DIMACHAERUS  SPLENDENS 


SIMON  OF  CYRE 
DIMACHAERUS  SPLEN 


MAR  8  1937 


OR 


The  Story  of  a  Man’s  (and  a  Nation’s)  Soul 


By 

THOMAS  HALL  SHASTID,  M.  D.,  Sc.  D.,  etc. 


S.  Marie:  15:21:  “And  they  compel  one  passing  by, 
Simon  of  Cyrene,  coming  from  the  country,  the  father 
of  Alexander  and  Rufus,  to  go  with  them,  that  he  might 
bear  His  cross.” 

A  Scrap  of  Paper  Bloivn  on  the  Author’s  Doorstep: 
“It  is  true  that  the  outward  signs  are  in  the  past,  but 
the  inner  meaning  of  which  those  signs  are  symbols  only, 
these  are — ” 


1923 

GEORGE  WAHR 

Publisher  to  the  University  of  Michigan 

ANN  ARBOR,  MICHIGAN 


WHELDON  AND  WESLEY,  LTD., 

2,  3  &  4  Arthur  Street,  New  Oxford  Street,  London,  W.  C.  2,  England 


Copyright,  1923,  in  the  United  States  of  America, 

by  Thomas  Hall  Shastid. 

Printed  in  the  United  States  of  America. 

Imperial  and  International  Copyright  secured. 

All  rights,  including  the  right  of  translation,  reserved 

for  all  countries. 


To 

My  Beloved  Friend , 

ANDERS  GULLEIKSON  HOYDE, 


with  whom,  for  joyous  years,  I  have 
travelled  the  alluring,  if  ever  changing, 
road  of  science 


“There  had  come  among  them  one  who  had 
studied  many  things,  and  yet  he  believed.  A 
great  surgeon,  a  man  of  knowledge,  faith, 
prayer  and  works.  And  his  light  was  that 
of  a  star  in  a  dark  world." 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 
in  2019  with  funding  from 
Princeton  Theological  Seminary  Library 


https://archive.org/details/simonofcyrenedimOOshas 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 

Introduction .  9 

PART  I— The  Roughing  Out .  11 

Book  I.  The  Dream .  13 

Chapter  I.  Shem .  13 

Chapter  II.  Out  of  the  Cain  Life  Called .  19 

Book  II.  The  Failure .  38 

Chapter  III.  The  Man  of  Worldly  Light .  38 

Chapter  IV.  Light  Divine .  52 

Chapter  V.  The  Struggles  of  the  Priest .  56 

Chapter  VI.  The  Struggles  of  Trivialis .  61 

Chapter  VII.  The  Lesser  Serpent .  65 

Chapter  VIII.  Servants  of  Caesar . 68 

Chapter  IX.  The  Godward  Side  . .  72 

Chapter  X.  A  Finder  of  Temptation .  80 

Chapter  XI.  Emah .  83 

Chapter  XII.  Cowards  .  89 

Chapter  XIII.  Only  for  Javan,  Japhet’s  Son,  the  Bearer 

of  the  Light .  94 

Chapter  XIV.  The  Stair  of  a  Hundred  and  One  Steps. ..  97 

Chapter  XV.  Gillul  .  102 

Chapter  XVT.  Christmas  Before  Christ .  109 

Chapter  XVTI.  Simon  of  Cyrene .  116 

Chapter  XVIII.  Abaddone .  118 

Book  III.  Divine  Assistance .  121 

Chapter  XIX.  The  City  of  the  Great  King . 121 

Chapter  XX.  The  Babylonia .  128 

Chapter  XXI.  Amahnah,  which  is  Machashebethel . 136 

Chapter  XXII.  Rejected  and  Despised  of  Men . 139 

Chapter  XXIII.  0  Little  Palestinian  House! .  144 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

Chapter  XXIV.  A  Pupil  of  Parush,  the  Peculiar . 151 

Chapter  XXV.  The  Two  Cross-Bearers .  176 

Chapter  XXVI.  The  Wine  House .  194 

Chapter  XXVII.  A  Great  Shadow  on  a  Great  Soul . 200 

PART  II— The  Grinding  Fine .  207 

Book  IV.  The  School .  209 

Chapter  XXVIII.  Philosophy  and  Eternal  Life .  209 

Chapter  XXIX.  Via  Dolorosa  ad  Maximum  Protracta. . .  213 

Chapter  XXX.  Conatus,  The  Man  Who  Was  Free  to 

Choose  .  222 

Chapter  XXXI.  At  the  End  Face  of  the  Wall. . . .  231 

Chapter  XXXII.  Christopherus .  249 

Chapter  XXXIII.  At  the  Houses  of  Them  That  Were  Spe¬ 
cially  Sinful .  262 

Chapter  XXXIV.  Levitas,  in  Gaul .  290 

Chapter  XXXV.  Krieg,  in  Germania .  297 

Chapter  XXXVI.  Seli-Secg .  315 

Chapter  XXXVII.  No  Land  Whatever .  320 

Book  V.  A  Prominent  Man . 331 

Chapter  XXXVIII.  Caesar .  331 

Chapter  XXXIX.  The  Left  Hand  of  God .  332 

Chapter  XL.  The  Man  Who  Could  Not  Fail .  342 

Chapter  XLI.  Lift  up  Thine  Heart,  O  Job  bar- Job: 

Thou  Art  on  the  Path  to  the  Stars ! . .  352 

Chapter  XLII.  The  House  of  the  Jew  and  The  House  of 

The  Serpent .  357 

Chapter  XLIII.  The  Man  Without  a  Face . 369 

Chapter  XLIV.  No  Rest .  375 

Chapter  XLV.  Between  Two  Stools .  389 

Chapter  XLVI.  Life  Eternal .  396 

Chapter  XLVII.  The  Infinite  Assize .  400 

Chapter  XLVIII.  In  Peril  of  Great  Changes . 414 

Chapter  XLIX.  And  It  Came  to  Pass .  423 

Chapter  L.  As  the  Sparks  Fly  Upward .  426 

Chapter  LI.  When  the  Gates  Lift  Up  Their  Heads. . .  439 


INTRODUCTION 


HERE,  according  to  my  view,  is  one  of  the  best  stories  of  ancient 
times  which  I  have  had  the  pleasure  of  reading.  At  the  outset 
it  captivates  the  attention,  then  it  grows  in  depth  and  power 
with  each  successive  chapter,  almost  with  each  successive  paragraph. 
The  climax  at  the  close  is,  as  I  see  it,  rarely  surpassed  in  any  language. 

It  should  be  observed,  first  of  all,  that  the  tale  is  either  an  allegory 
or  not,  just  as  the  reader  chooses.  Suppose,  for  a  moment,  that  we 
call  it  an  allegory.  Now,  ordinarily,  an  allegory  is  very  dull  reading. 
But  the  cause  is  this :  The  writers  of  most  allegories,  in  their  eager¬ 
ness  to  represent  some  underlying  (the  allegorized)  story  by  a  primary 
(the  allegorizing)  story,  fail  to  make  the  primary  story  interesting. 
Then  the  allegorized  story  itself  is  spoiled.  This  fault  has,  I  think, 
been  completely  avoided  by  Doctor  Shastid,  who  has  so  constructed 
his  volume  that  it  may  be  read  with  interest  as  mere  story  only  and 
without  the  slightest  care  for  the  underlying  sense,  or,  if  the  reader 
prefer,  then  also  as  an  allegory  and  with  even  greater  interest. 

A  word  of  caution  to  those  who  would  take  this  splendid  work 
with  an  eye  to  its  deeper  significance.  The  tale  does  not  seek  to 
allegorize  the  external,  but  the  internal,  history  of  Israel.  It  is,  in 
fact,  as  its  author  calls  it  on  the  title-page,  “the  story  of  a  nation’s 
soul.”  Now  it  is  true  that,  in  order  to  exhibit  the  development  of 
spiritual  Israel,  it  was  plainly  necessary,  from  time  to  time,  to  dis¬ 
play,  or  depict,  one  or  another  event  of  Jewish  external  history.  For 
example,  the  crucifixion  (an  external  event)  undoubtedly  had  to  be 
presented,  or  described,  in  order  that  the  effect  thereof  on  the  Jewish 
inner  consciousness  might  clearly  be  depicted  throughout  the  later 
portions  of  the  volume.  But,  in  general,  the  external  events  of 
Jewish  history  are  skillfully  evaded,  and  only  the  great  successive 
phases  of  Jewish  soul-life  are  symbolized.  Thus,  in  the  Egyptian 
part  df  the  book,  the  reaction  of  the  Jewish  nature  to  Egyptian 
idolatry  is  clearly  and  wonderfully  represented;  in  the  Petran  por¬ 
tion,  that  to  Nabathasan  idolatry,  and,  in  the  Palestinian  portion, 
that  to  the  Syrian  Baal  worship,  and  so  on.  After  the  Babylonian 
captivity,  as  all  readers  know,  there  were  no  further  lapses  to  idolatry, 
at  least  in  the  ordinary  sense  of  the  term. 

The  various  periods  of  Jewish  development,  I  should  add,  were 
not  strictly  successive  or  mutually  exclusive,  yet,  in  an  allegory 
wherein  one  single  person  stands  for  the  soul  of  an  entire  nation, 

9 


10 


INTRODUCTION 


the  facts  must,  as  a  matter  of  course,  be  somewhat  simplified,  and 
so  the  various  periods  of  Jewish  development  do,  in  this  book,  become 
strictly  successive  and  mutually  exclusive.  This  sort  of  privilege, 
however,  we  grant  to  every  allegorist  as  a  kind  of  allegorical  license. 

Many  parts  of  Doctor  Shastid ’s  story  are  sad  beyond  belief,  some 
are  gently  comic,  and  a  few  are  even  repellent,  but,  everywhere,  the 
book  is,  as  I  see  it,  strictly  true  to  Bible  chronicle,  to  post-biblical 
history,  and  to  the  various  Bible  prophecies.  Opinions,  of  course, 
even  of  the  highest  authorities,  differ  on  some  of  these  points — a  fact 
which  must  be  borne  in  mind  by  the  reader  who  cares  for  the  deeper 
meaning  of  the  book. 

The  author  of  the  volume  has,  on  every  page,  made  manifest  an 
intense  and  ever-increasing  sympathy  with  the  Jewish  character — a 
character  which,  I  may  say  in  passing,  is  the  greatest  national  char¬ 
acter  in  all  history.  Not  for  nothing  did  God  choose  Israel  to  be 
unto  Him  as  a  nation  of  priests.  Even  in  all  their  fallings  to  idolatry, 
the  children  of  Israel,  as  is  well  known,  never  gave  up  their  belief 
in  the  true  God.  The  attempt  was  always  to  add  whatever  phase  of 
idolatry  chanced  to  be  under  consideration  at  the  time,  to  the  true 
worship  of  Jehovah — the  results  being,  in  each  case,  exactly  as  Doctor 
Shastid  has  symbolized  them  in  his  work.  If,  sometimes,  the  results 
were  repellent,  the  facts  could  not  be  otherwise  shown.  How,  in  later 
times,  the  Jew  has,  in  spite  of  himself,  been  a  monument  unto  Jehovah- 
Jesus,  Doctor  Shastid  has  symbolized  with  wonderful  appositeness 
and  effect. 

I  cannot  close  without  calling  attention  to  the  very  pathetic  por¬ 
trait  of  the  dear  old  Archon  Basileus,  as  well  as  to  those  of  the  Seven 
Deadly  Sins,  and  to  Conatus  1  ‘the  man  without  a  face.’ 7  These 
figures  will  live  in  my  memory  forever.  As  to  the  friendship  which 
Doctor  Shastid  has  shown  between  Lampadephorus  (not  solely,  if 
mostly,  a  Greek,  but  bearer  of  the  ancient  secular  light,  Greek  or 
not-Greek)  and  Samson-Solomon  (bearer  of  the  light  from  above), 
this  is,  in  my  opinion,  one  of  the  finest  depictions  of  any  sort  or  kind 
of  friendship  outside  the  Bible  itself.  Moreover,  it  is  strictly  true  to 
fact,  as  ancient  records  abundantly  demonstrate. 

My  advice  to  one  and  all  is  to  read  this  book :  first  for  the  sheer 
interest  of  the  story  itself,  second  for  its  great  gallery  of  human 
portraits,  third  (and  best  of  all)  for  its  profound  allegorical  meaning. 

Albert  W.  Ryan. 

St.  Paul’s  Rectory, 

Dulutli,  Minn. 


PART  I 

THE  ROUGHING  OUT 


BOOK  I.  THE  DREAM 


CHAPTER  I 
Shem 

The  idolaters,  meanwhile,  were  coming  a  little  closer,  and  the 
sun  had  not  yet  risen.  Old  Shem  therefore  picked  his  way  more 
cautiously  than  before,  wishing  that  the  rocks  in  the  rough-paved 
streets  of  mad,  half  torehlit,  inimical  Cyrene  were  not  so  full  of 
treacherous  points  to  stumble  on,  and  that  the  stern  houses  and  brow¬ 
beating  temples  were  not  so  full  of  accusing  echoes.  At  length  he 
saw  very  plainly  that  his  doddering  legs  could  not  much  longer  keep 
him  out  of  view  of  the  worshippers  of  Bacchus  and  Aphrodite,  so 
he  began  to  cast  around  for  a  convenient  hiding-place.  As  he  came 
upon  an  open  square,  before  the  temple  which  was  dedicate  “Unto 
the  Unknown  God,  ’  ’  he,  fearing  lest  the  light  of  the  fast-approaching 
torches  should  open  him  out  of  the  friendly  arms  of  darkness,  bent 
well  over,  and  so  crept  softly  up  the  temple  steps. 

But  behold!  as  he  reached  the  very  top,  there,  in  his  haste,  he 
dropped  his  staff,  and  ringing  it  went  clean  down  to  the  bottom  of 
the  bronzy  stair. 

When  he  had  got  his  staff  and  gone  up  the  stairs  again,  he  hid 
in  the  oblique,  gliding  shadow  of  a  massy  column,  panting. 

The  crowd  came  ever  nearer. 

“Detested  Greeks  and  Romans !”  whispered  the  old  man  to  him¬ 
self,  “what  declare  the  wise  Sopherim  about  you?  Say  they  not — 
Accursed  be  the  rays  of  thy  lanterns  and  the  light  of  thy  torches !” 

The  crowd  drew  nearer  and  nearer,  faster  and  faster,  and  just 
as  they  got  anigh  unto  the  temple  steps,  behold!  there  was  one  of 
the  men  in  the  press  that  attempted  to  flee  from  the  tumult.  But 
another,  behind  him,  a  tall,  pale  man,  with  strange  lights  in  his  calm, 
dead  eyes,  caught  him,  and  casting  him  swiftly  to  the  stones,  planted 
a  great  dagger  in  his  neck,  so  that  the  old  Jew,  Shem,  as  he  stood 
behind  the  pillar,  set  up  his  hands  before  his  face,  and  drew  back 
farther  into  the  shadow  of  the  column. 

One  in  the  crowd  cried,  “Thou  hast  killed  him,  Ophidion!” 

*  ‘  In  the  name  of  Caesar,  ’ ’  replied  the  man  addressed. 

Then  the  crowd  fled  (Ophidion,  however,  last  of  all,  and  with 

13 


14 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


straight  dignity),  leaving  the  dead  one  in  his  own  pool  of  shining 
blood. 

Now  Shem,  at  first,  refrained  from  coming  down,  for  he  feared 
both  the  people  and  the  watch.  But  after  a  little,  espying  in  the 
far  East  the  bright  approach  of  dawn,  and  seeing  a  glint  slip  over 
the  golden  roofs  of  many  temples  until  at  length  it  came  to  lie  upon 
a  gable  of  the  little  old  red  synagogue1 — the  little  old  red  synagogue, 
wherein,  even  now,  early  as  was  the  hour,  there  appeared  to  exist, 
for  some  strange  reason,  an  infinite  refuge.  Plucking  up  heart,  he 
glided  from  the  shadow,  and  so  on,  stumbling,  down  to  the  prostrate 
form  in  the  street. 

For  a  moment  he  stooped.  ‘‘Art  thou  dead,  0  Friend?  What 
say  the  Sopherim?  May  I  be  of  service  unto  thee,  albeit — paw!” 

Now  the  old  man  clearly  perceived  that  the  victim  was  dead. 
Moreover,  his  own  fingers  were  smeared  to  the  palms  with  blood. 
If  caught,  too,  he  would  surely  be  held  as  the  murderer.  He  looked 
about,  trembling,  and  sweated  profusely.  Then,  thinking  he  heard 
approaching  steps  once  more,  he  screamed:  “Nay,  nay!  I  did  this 
foul  thing  not.  Behold!  It  is  solely  the  fruits  of  idolatry.” 

So  screaming,  he  glanced  hurriedly  about  again,  hobbled  quickly 
off,  seeking  shelter  in  the  far-away  synagogue. 

And  when  he  had  come  anigh  thereunto,  he  beheld  the  Chazzan 
coming  out — the  Chazzan,  with  his  tall  form  and  beard  of  redness 
streaked  with  gray.  Shem  called  unto  the  Chazzan  as  well  as  he 
could,  and  then  leaned,  hard  panting,  on  his  thick,  crooked  staff. 

“The  Lord — be — with  thee,”  said  he  unto  the  Chazzan.  “Bless 
me — bless  me,  0  Betah.  Bless  any — that  cometh  in  the  name  of  the 
Lord.  But  wait.  Be  not — wroth  at  all  with  me.  Breath !  Breath ! 
I  have  run.  What  say  the  Sopherim? — See!  there  is  blood!  The 
Sopherim!  Here  on  my  hands.  I — innocent.  Blood!” 

The  Chazzan  raised  his  own  holy  hands  in  horror.  His  face  grew 
pale,  and  he  cried,  stammering :  ‘  ‘  Blood !  Blood !  Whose  blood  have 
ye  shed,  Shem  ben-Noah,  ben-Adam?  Have  I  not  told  thee  to  keep 
from  idolaters?  Say  all  unto  me.  Tell  me  naught  but  truth,  that  I 
rightly  may  lay  this  matter  before  the  congregation.” 

Came  Shem  ben-Noah  ben-Adam  closer,  and  leaned  upon  his  staff 
again.  Said  he,  “Before  the  morning  star  had  risen,  and  while  the 
slumbers  of  my  shepherds  of  the  day  and  also  of  my  dreaming  son 
(he  dreameth  even  in  his  sleep)  were  still  unbroke,  I  came  up  out 

1  There  was  a  Jewish  colony  in  Cyrenaica  as  early  as  322  B.  C.  See  “The 
Jewish  Encyclopedia,”  article  “Cyrenaica,”  also  Hamilton,  “Wanderings  in  North 
Africa”  (1856),  p.  XVI. 


THE  DREAM 


15 


of  the  pastures  where  my  sheep  feed,  and  so  to  the  gate  of  this  city 
and  into  its  streets.  For  I  sought  the  steward  of  my  pastures  and 
of  my  farms,  even  Trivialis — that  mongrel  which  is  partly  Gaul, 
partly  Iberian,  partly  Briton,  and  only  Elohim  knoweth — he  is  mon¬ 
grel — hence  the  name  I  gave  him — Mongrel — he  is —  And  his  mind 
is  ever —  That  man  hath  been  upon  a  mission  for  me  to  Rome — for 
me,  his  master.  Last  night — for  so  I  have  heard — he  did  arrive  in 
the  sea-port,  Apollonia,  and  then  was  to  have  come  these  twelve  miles 
further  inland  unto  this  city — this  idolatrous  and  God-accursed  city 
of  Cyrene — at  some  dim  hour.  And  I — as  I  knew  he  must  surely 
have — money — much  money — in  his  scrip — money — which  money — 
got  in  godly  ways — being  mine —  Well,  I  feared — ” 

“What  fearedst  thou,  Shem  ben-Noah?” 

“What  say  the  Sopherim?  The  Mongrel  meaneth  wisely,  but  he 
brawleth  at  times  in  taverns — and  so,  as  I  searched  for  him — I  met — 
the  accursed  idolaters.  They  might  have  killed  me,  they  might  have 
killed  me.  I  hid  behind  a  column  in  the  temple  to  the  unknown 
god — I  do  forget  his  name — one  of  the  idolaters — I  do  forget  his 
name — before  that  very  temple  did  murder  another.  The  crowd 
fled.  I  went  down,  at  length,  and  curiously  examined.  Then  I  heard 
more  people,  and  I  saw  my  hands  red.  I  fled  unto  thee.  I  am 
innocent. J  ’ 

“Thou  innocent !”  cried  the  Chazzan  indignantly,  “thou  inno¬ 
cent!  Perhaps  of  this  blood.  But,  in  general,  how  innocent  I  do 
surely  know.” 

“I  protest —  The  Sopherim — ” 

“Let  be  the  Sopherim.  What  hast  thou  to  do  with  wisdom? 
Listen  to  me,  for  I  have  several  heads  whereon  to  counsel  a  man  which 
standeth  as  high  as  thou  dost  in  the  synagogue.  Thou  speakest  con¬ 
cerning  idolatry,  thou  and  the  others  of  the  congregation  which  are 
like  unto  thee,  yet,  in  secret,  do  ye  all  long  for  the  rites  of  the 
Molochites,  for  these  and  for  the  women  which  are  sacred  unto 
Aphrodite.  Have  ye  not  even  made  yourselves  idols  and  brought 
sacrifices  unto  them,  and  kissed  your  hands  to  them,  and  fallen 
upon  your  knees  and  worshipped,  saying:  1  These  dead  things  are 
gods,  or  else  have  gods  within  them’?  And  have  ye  not,  then,  also 
in  the  presence  of  these  idols,  committed  abominations  that  tongue 
of  mine  can  never  utter  even  unto  thee?  Answer  me  this.  Then 
will  I  say  more.” 

“What  declare  the  Sopherim?” 

“Let  be  the  Sopherim,  I  say,  and  answer.” 

“It  is  true.  It  is  true.  I  have  had  some  commerce  with  the 


16 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


heathen.  The  sheep  were  needed  by  them  for  their  sacrifices.  I  sold — 
they  paid — I — I — ” 

“Stammer  not,  idolatrous  old  man.” 

“  Idolatrous ! ’  ’ 

“It  is  the  very  word.  And  now  thou  comest  to  me  for  protec¬ 
tion.  Well,  I  will  see,  on  thy  behalf,  the  ethnarch,  that  all  thy  doings 
on  this  day  may  be  cleared  of  a  charge.  But,  hearken !” 

“I  hear,  0  reverend  keeper  of  the  synagogue,  but  listen — ” 

“Interrupt  me  not.  Tell  me  of  thy  steward  and  thy  son.  First, 
thy  steward.  Didst  thou  not  send  him  on  a  black  mission  of  revenge  V 9 

“Not  of  blood,  not  of  blood.’ 9 

“But  yet  of  revenge.” 

“How  thou  dost  know  these  things  I  cannot  clearly  conceive. 
I  cannot — ” 

“Revenge  and  hate,  and  only  because  one  did  outsell  thee  in  the 
sheep  market.  What  of  the  Sopherim  now,  Shem  ben-Adam?” 

“I  must  go  seek  that  steward.  With  thy  permission — ” 

“Depart  not,  but  listen.  What  an  ensample  hast  thou  set  for 
thy  steward,  what  ensample  yet  again  for  thy  son?” 

‘  ‘  Sh-h-h !  he  cannot  know— the  son,  the  son.  He  knoweth  nothing.  ’  ’ 

“Wilt  ever  interrupt?  Is  it  for  this,  a  perpetual  breaking  in, 
that  the  Lord,  by  the  mouth  of  myself,  hath  informed  thee,  many 
a  time  and  bitter,  that  the  ways  of  idolatry  are  not  as  the  ways  of 
peace?  Have  we  not  indeed,  both  the  Lord  and  I,  shown  unto  thee 
those  things  with  infinite  patience  and  great  suffering  ?  How  long — 
or  rather  is  it  well  to  talk  with  thee  at  all  ?  Go  into  peace — but  stop. 
Thy  son.  Hast  thou  reflected  that,  as  yet,  thou  hast  not  lighted  on  a 
perfect  name  for  him?  What  is  his  name?” 

“I  call  him  sometimes  Samson  and  sometimes  Solomon.  These, 
surely,  are  great  names,  O  Chazzan.  None  better,  none  better.  And, 
as  for  his  having  two  names,  was  not  Israel  himself  both  Israel  and 
Jacob — sometimes  even  Jacob-Israel?  And  behold!  the  very  country 
of  which  this  city  is  the  capital,  is  it  not  sometimes  called  Cyrenaica, 
sometimes  Pentapolis  ?  ’  ’ 

“Knowest  thou  not  that,  among  our  people,  importance  attacheth 
to  the  meaning  of  a  name,  so  that,  often,  as  a  son  doth  come  to  man¬ 
hood,  his  name  is  many  times  altered,  even  wholly  set  aside,  so  that 
ever  the  name  may  be  to  the  person  fitting  ?  A  name  doth  not  signify 
naught.  Choose  therefore,  and  soon.  Say  whether  ye  will  always 
have  him  called  Samson,  or  whether  always  Solomon.  I  have  thought 
much  about  thy  son.  Is  he  merely  a  man  of  bones  and  strength  ?  If 
no,  then  why  not  solely  call  him  Solomon?” 


THE  DREAM 


17 


“He  is,  0  Chazzan,  both  so  strong  and  enduring  (thou  wouldst 
not  believe  how  enduring  he  is)  and  yet  too  so  wise  that,  as  far  as 
he  is  grown,  I  have  not  been  able  to  choose  for  him  either  the  one 
name  or  the  other.’ ’ 

“Just,  0  vacillating  old  man,  as  thou  hast  never  been  able  to 
choose  between  the  mere  frauds  and  ignorant  devices  of  the  heathen 
on  the  one  hand,  and  the  Lord  thy  God,  who  is  El-Shaddai,  on  the 
other.” 

“I  swear — ” 

“Take,  as  yet,  no  oath,  but  give  more  earnest  heed  to  the  things 
that  still  I  have  to  tell  thee.  Know  ye  not  that,  even  more  than 
ever,  the  scornful  finger  of  the  Gentiles  is  pointed  at  us  ?  The  Romans 
make  the  ciconia,  the  Greeks  ask  if  Messiah  is  not  yet  come,  and  the 
Berbers  grunt  at  us  or  make  sharp  squeals  like  swine.  Why  is  this  ?  ’  ’ 

“It  is  for  that  we  are  followers  of  Elohim.” 

“It  is  for  that  we  have  backslidden,  and,  as  we  ourselves  fail  at 
the  religion  of  El-Shaddai,  so  the  heathen  do  not  in  any  wise  respect 
us  for  that  religion.  They  will  spit  in  our  faces  soon.” 

“In  our  faces.  I  have  sinned.” 

“Thou  hast  sinned.  Now  hearken  unto  me,  for  else  thou  art  lost 
in  body  and  soul.  Give  up  the  ways  of  the  heathen,  leave  those  people 
for  thine  own.  Obey  the  Almighty.  Thou  hast  not  forgotten.  Obey, 
Remember  His  dictates.  Let  be  the  sacred  women  that  hang  about 
the  purlieus  of  Aphrodite.  Keep  far  away  from  them.  Keep  also 
far  from  the  followers  of  Moloch.  Keep  far  from  all  idolaters.  Let 
the  sons  of  tumult  get  their  sheep  from  any  that  will  sell  to  them, 
but  not  from  thee.  Sell  thou  in  the  public  sheepmarket  only.  And 
once  again  listen!” 

“I  listen.  I  listen,  0  Betah,  man  of  God.” 

“Then  say  unto  me  of  a  surety  whether  or  not  thou  It  do  these 
things  I  have  asked.  Swear  that  never  again  wilt  thou  be  caught 
among  the  heathen  temples  of  a  night.  Swear.” 

“I  swear.” 

“Swear  that  never  again  wilt  thou  be  caught  among  the  burners 
of  the  flesh  of  children.  Swear.” 

“I  swear.” 

“Swear  that  never  again  wilt  thou  consort  with  women  that  hang 
about  the  temples — those  vile  prostitutes.  Swear.” 

“I  swear,  0  Betah.” 

“Swear,  last  of  all,  that  never  again  wilt  thou  permit  thy  steward 
or  thy  son,  that  they  may  do  any  of  these  things,  and  that  never 
hereafter,  so  long  as  thou  shalt  live,  wilt  thou  dispatch  thy  steward, 

2— Feb.  23. 


18 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


or  any  in  the  place  of  him  (contrary  to  that  which  now  thon  intendest) 
on  any  mission  to  the  rnin  or  the  harming  of  thy  fellow  man.” 

Shem  looked  up  quickly,  wide-eyed,  letting  his  big  staff  fall. 
“How  knowest  thou?” 

‘  ‘I  know  only  thee,  thy  past.  It  telleth  the  future.  Swear.” 

Shem  gazed  full  in  the  Chazzan’s  eyes,  beginning  to  think  of 
indignant  things  to  say  to  him,  but  the  beauty  and  the  awful  majesty 
which  sate  on  Betah’s  countenance  were  like  as  an  ordering  angel 
unto  the  Jew,  and  all  the  high  rebellion  of  the  sinner’s  proud  heart 
was  quickly  crushed  and  held  strongly  downward,  as  if  by  the  weight 
of  a  mighty  millstone. 

“I  swear.” 

“Then  keep  thine  oath.  So  let  us  all  do,  we  that  are  children  of 
Israel.  Then  shall  we  see,  on  a  day,  Him  that  is  sent  of  the  Father, 
and  know  from  His  lips  the  secret  of  eternal  life.” 

Now,  even  as  Betah  spake,  there  chanced  to  pass  by  a  man  of 
the  Nations  which  was  called  Vectis — for  many  a  mighty  thing  hath 
happened  by  chance,  which  is  God.  And  Vectis  heard  but  these  five 
words — “the  secret  of  eternal  life.”  Yet  the  mighty  syllables  took 
hold  and  moved  him,  so  that  he  said:  “Behold,  I  shall  soon  die 
(being  old)  and  go  down  into  the  dust,  and  I  fain  would  know  the 
secret  of  life  eternal.” 

He  went  to  a  wine-shop  near  the  Temple  to  the  Unknown  God, 
where  Ophidion  had  murdered  a  man. 

He  grew  more  and  more  sad,  because  he  knew  not  the  secret  of 
eternal  life. 

Another,  coming  in,  sate  beside  him,  ordered  and  drank.  Soon 
said  he  to  Vectis,  “Tell  me  thy  name — thou  lookest  melancholy. 
My  name  is  Rota,  A  Wheel.” 

Said  Vectis,  “My  name  is  Vectis,  A  Lever.  And  I  am  sad  because 
of  a  certain  mystery  which  lately  I  have  heard  about,  namely:  ‘The 
Secret  of  Eternal  Life.’  Knowest  thou  that  secret,  Rota?” 

Rota,  who  had  started  to  sing  a  ribald  song,  replied:  ‘‘Nay,  I 
do  not.”  His  face  became  all  at  once  sad,  and  he  pondered  deeply. 
The  longer  he  pondered,  the  sadder  he  became.  Then,  “I  should 
have  thought  about  this  thing  long  time  before.  ’  ’  He  arose  and  went 
away,  declaring :  “I  will  speak  with  many  men  of  wisdom ;  for  lo, 
I  am  weary  and  anxious  of  heart,  and  I,  too,  would  know  the  mystery 
of  this  matter.” 

And,  unlike  Vectis,  who  soon  forgot  about  the  whole  thing,  Rota 
wandered  very  long  and  learned  of  many  matters  in  many  lands, 
and  later  (though  he  never  knew  that  fact)  became  as  a  mighty 


THE  DREAM 


19 


hand  for  the  preservation  of  Samson-Solomon,  the  son  of  Shem 
ben-Noah  ben-Adam. 

Meanwhile,  Betah,  man  of  God,  still  adjured  old  Shem,  as  the 
two  stood  before  the  synagogue:  “ Swear.’ ’ 

“I  swear.’ ’ 

4 ‘Yonder,  then,  in  the  place  of  gambling,  is  thy  steward.  Wait 
thou  near  in  the  shrubbery,  and  thou  shalt  see  him,  and  not  thyself 
go  in.  Remember  thine  oath.” 

“I  will  remember.  And  when  I  have  found  my  steward — ”  He 
looked,  being  worn  and  weary  with  the  terrors  of  the  night,  not  at 
the  tavern,  but  into  the  South,  far  in  the  way  of  his  sheepfields. 
He  forgot  even  the  presence  of  the  mighty  Chazzan,  and  for  this, 
that  he  thought  only  of  his  son — his  son,  whose  ways,  except  for  the 
time  of  a  certain  imprisonment,  had  been  as  the  ways  of  peace. 


CHAPTER  II 

Out  of  the  Cain  Life  Called 

Peace  indeed  lay  over  the  early  morning  fields  and  fastnesses 
of  Cyrenaica.  Even  in  the  rock-bound  fold  where  Samson  (or  Solo¬ 
mon)  ben-Shem  ben-Noah  ben-Adam  had  slept  the  starlit  night  away, 
there  appeared  to  be  peace.  And  yet,  at  the  side  of  the  fold,  without 
the  thorny  wall  thereof,  lay  the  carcase  of  a  giant  wolf,  still  stiffening 
and  grinning  hideously — a  wolf  which  the  hands  of  Samson-Solomon 
bad  torn  asunder  in  the  deep  night  and  had  flung  in  hottest  hate 
without  the  walls.  To  attack  his  father ’s  sheep !  There  had  been 
no  fear  in  the  lad.  He  was  solely  anxious  for  his  father’s  sheep. 
And  now,  arisen  from  light  slumber,  he  dropped  to  his  knees. 
“Adonai!”  He  could  speak  no  further  for  a  time.  Then,  “Elohim! 
I,  who  am  Samson-Solomon,  the  son  of  Shem,  do  worship  and  adore 
thee.  Hear,  El-Shaddai!  It  is  I,  a  shepherd  lad  of  Cyrenaica  who 
speaketh  unto  thee.  It  is  I  indeed.  Thou  that  hast  made  the  world, 
the  sheep,  my  father  and  n^self ,  I  do  adore  thee,  0  Adonai !  There 
is  none  like  unto  thee,  from  everlasting  unto  everlasting.”  For  a 
while  he  paused  as  if  in  a  fever  of  agony,  then  he  cried  out,  all  of 
a  sudden :  ‘  ‘  Idolatry !  Keep  me  away  from  idolatry,  0  Lord,  0  God ! 
From  idols  and  all  idolatry  keep  thou  me  far  away.” 

He  ran  from  his  place,  and  tore  his  black  hair  and  rent  his  strong 
inner  garment,  and  beat  his  head  against  the  stones  that  formed  the 
sheepfold  wall.  And  the  sheep,  because  of  the  turmoil,  and  also 


20 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


because  they  were  very  hungry,  came  bleating  up  around  him,  while, 
far  behind,  indifferent,  the  foul-smelling  goats  assembled. 

When  thus  he  beheld  his  flocks,  he  began  to  be  more  at  peace, 
for  he  was  concerned  about  them. 

He  went  and  took  his  great  crook  and  wide  scrip,  and  lifting 
from  his  breast  his  little  shepherd’s  pipes,  placed  them  to  his  now 
happy  lips.  How  the  little  sheep  skipped  and  danced!  He  loved 
the  sheep.  He  loved  also  to  pipe  to  the  sheep. 

He  opened  the  gate  of  the  fold,  and  went  on  out  of  the  place, 
and,  counting  the  sheep  and  the  goats,  each  one  as  it  came  from 
the  fold  in  its  turn,  he  closed  up  the  entrance,  and  again  began  to 
play  upon  his  shepherd-pipes. 

And,  so  playing,  he  led  both  the  sheep  and  the  goats  in  the  way 
which  they  should  go,  calling  from  time  to  time  in  the  intervals  of 
his  playing:  1  ‘Here,  Ringstrake !  Here,  Blackie!  What  do  ye, 
O  Flower  of  White  and  Almond  Blossom  ?  Spotty,  Spotty !  Hither, 
hither,  Black-eye !  Keep  ye  close  beside  me,  else  ye  be  lost !  ’  ’  He 
took  the  flock  along  a  thin,  winding  path,  which  now  and  then 
vanished  utterly,  to  reappear,  natheless,  and  run,  zigzag  or  winding, 
up  hills  with  fearful  rocky  rims,  then  down  again  in  dark  many- 
recessed  ravines,  and  round  about  the  borders  of  the  meadow  where 
poisonous  grasses  grew,  silphium  and  the  like.  One  of  the  paths 
led  off  to  a  hidden  precipice.  Another,  to  a  neighboring  vineyard. 
“What,  Wanderers!  will  ye  not  be  led?  Will  ye  go  indeed  to  the 
neighbor’s  vineyards  and  his  fields,  and  so  be  forfeited,  or  will  ye 
over  the  precipice  and  be  slain?  Once  when  I  myself  did  wander, 
I  was  captured  and  sold  to  the  King  of  the  South.  Listen  to  another 
of  the  instruments  which  I  shall  play — a  harp  which  lately  I  have 
built  for  only  you,  and  also  to  a  song  which  only  for  you  I  have 
made.  ’  ’ 

He  played  upon  his  harp  and  sang  sweet  songs  both  of  brooks 
and  of  happy  meadows,  but  ever  and  again  he  closed  with  words  of 
excellence  about  the  Lord.  So  he  came  at  length  to  a  running  stream. 

The  goats  rushed  up  before  the  sheep,  and  drank  at  once  their 
thirsty  fill,  but  the  sheep  drank  not,  for  that  the  water  was  running. 

And  he  built  a  little  dam  at  one  side  of  the  stream,  formed  there 
so  a  quiet  pool,  and  all  the  sheep  did  come  and  drink  of  the  still 
waters. 

The  shepherd  delighted  in  the  sheep,  and  he  kept  the  goats  from 
hurting  them,  and  after  a  time  he  led  them  all  far  away,  where  excel¬ 
lent  pasture  was,  and  then,  having  taken  from  his  scrip  his  bread 
and  drink,  and  having  eaten  and  drunken,  he  counted  the  sheep  and 


THE  DREAM 


21 


the  goats  again,  and,  playing  a  little  while  once  more  upon  his  pipe, 
let  fall  that  instrument  and  wandered  off  into  many  strange  thoughts 
and  visions. 

Now,  for  that  the  man  was  deeply  religious  from  his  birth,  and 
also  because  this  early  quality  had  been  developed  and  made  far 
stronger  by  the  deep  hill-quiet  in  which  he  lived,  by  the  sights  of 
pastures  and  of  stars  (the  excellent  beauties  of  his  shepherd  world) 
he  dreamed  at  first  of  God.  In  all  the  solitude  of  hill  and  field,  the 
blue  expanse  of  sky  by  day,  the  shining  mazzaroth  at  night,  he  felt — 
Jehovah!  El-Shaddai!  Elohim!  Adonai!  Oh  Adonai,  Adonai, 
Adonai !  Unto  what  should  he  liken  Adonai  ?  Now  there  came  into 
his  heart  a  sudden  wish  that  he  might  behold  Adonai.  The  boy’s 
whole  soul  uprose  from  the  vanities  of  time  into  the  riches  of  eternity 
and  God’s  everlasting  love.  “Oh  Adonai!”  He  prayed  once  more 
unto  Adonai.  But  still,  although  he  was  truly  praying  in  the  spirit, 
he  was  yet  in  his  senses  troubled  for  that  he  still  desired  to  see  God ’s 
very  face — to  behold  that  countenance  as  he  did  behold  a  star,  a  rock, 
a  tree,  and  to  listen  to  Adonai ’s  voice,  even  as  he  ofttimes  listened 
to  the  winds,  to  the  sheep,  to  the  echoing  thunders.  Why  could  he 
not  see  and  hear  Adonai,  even  touch  his  hand  and  press  his  worshipful 
lips  upon  it?  He  wished  Adonai  for  his  friend. 

The  boy,  as  often  was  his  use,  did  talk  to  himself  for  a  certain 
while,  and  after  a  little  counting  of  his  sheep,  he  went,  as  in  a  dream 
indeed,  and  lifted  up  a  massive  stone  that  was  very  much  larger  than 
himself,  and  placed  it  on  the  summit  of  a  high  hill.  Then  he  took 
leaves  and  tinder,  and  placed  them  on  the  stone,  and,  next,  with  steel 
and  flint,  struck  fire.  The  tinder  and  the  leaves  caught,  and  the 
boy  fell  prostrate,  crying:  “0  Lord  God,  that  art  above  and  apart 
from  these !  ’  ’  And  all  that  arose  in  his  heart  will  no  other  man  know. 

After  a  time  he  got  to  his  knees,  and,  lifting  his  hands  to  heaven, 
cried:  “Adonai,  I  have  made  an  altar  to  thee.  I  do  adore  and  wor¬ 
ship  thee,  and  also  I  do  love  thee;  but  if  it  shall  be  as  a  thing  that 
delighteth  thy  heart,  then  suffer  thou  me  to  look  upon  thee  with 
mine  eyes.  Permit  me  to  behold  thy  countenance,  and  hear  thy 
voice.  I  would  be  as  thy  friend,  0  Adonai  El-Shaddai.” 

Came  upon  him  as  it  were  a  master  in  the  shape  of  a  wish  to 
cry  unto  the  stone  itself  which  formed  the  altar :  1 1  Thou  art  Adonai. 
I  will  love  thee,  ever  obey  thee.”  But  he  held  himself  in  crook,  as 
his  self  were  a  sheep,  until,  with  a  great  uprising  of  the  soul,  he  saw 
in  a  nearby  tree,  a  hideous  hawk.  Out  loud :  ‘  ‘  Thou,  0  Excellent 

One,  art  Adonai!”  He  fell  down  flat  on  his  face,  and  worshipped 
the  hawk. 


22 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


Then  rose  quickly,  and  fled  from  the  spot,  and  went  and  got  his 
sheep  and  goats  together  (which  had  widely  strayed)  and  led  them 
off  to  other  pastures.  For  he  said  in  his  soul,  “  Idolatry.  So  also  I 
did  whenas  I  was  captive  to  the  King  in  the  South.  Child  as  I  was, 
thou  didst  seduce  me,  Temunah,  priestess  of  all  wrong.  Thy  influence 
still  I  feel.” 

He  brought  the  bleating  flocks  to  a  pasture  overlooking  the  road 
which  ran  from  the  city  of  Cyrene  out  into  the  desert.  And  behold 
a  caravan  of  men  on  horses1  was  coming  from  the  desert,  and  he 
watched  the  caravan  until  it  wound  well  up  among  the  tombs  which 
lined  the  way  on  the  right  hand  and  again  on  the  left,  just  ere  the 
way  did  enter  into  the  marble  terraces  which  made  the  city  of  Cyrene. 

And  there  came  into  the  boy’s  mind  a  sermon  which  once  he  had 
heard  in  the  little  synagogue,  wherein  the  snowy-headed  preacher  had 
said  unto  the  congregation  (making  allegories)  that  the  life  of  a  man 
resembles  the  coming  of  a  caravan  from  the  desert,  forasmuch  as  it 
doth  emerge  from  mystery,  is  seen  for  but  a  very  little  while,  then 
doth  disappear  among  the  tombs — these  signifying  death.  Yet  later, 
he  had  said  that  the  caravans  might  find  a  goodly  city  of  the  living — 
a  goodly  city  and  a  beautiful — beyond  the  regions  of  the  dead. 

And  Samson-Solomon  stood  up,  and  gazed  out  into  the  desert. 
Said  he,  “Yea,  all  is  mystery.  The  tombs  and  the  city  themselves 
are  mystery.” 

He  looked  in  all  the  other  ways,  and  at  length  up  into  the  sky. 
“In  every  way  in  which  I  look  there  is  mystery.  Yea,  every  way  I 
look.  Man  himself  is  mystery.  The  sheep  and  the  goats,  they  also 
are  nothing  but  mystery,  even  they.  Who,  then,  shall  explain 
Adonai  ?  ’  ’ 

He  yearned  pitifully  toward  the  sheep  and  the  goats,  for  that 
these  creatures  were  a  portion  of  the  great  mystery  of  which  he  was 
himself  a  part,  even  the  Lord  also.  He  thought,  “Mayhap  I  am 
meant  to  be  a  preacher.”  Then  he  remembered  his  late  idolatries. 
“No,  no.  I  am  much  too  vile  a  wretch  that  ever  I  should  become 
a  koheleth.  I  shall  be  only  shepherd.  That  liketh  me  best  in  any 
case.  Or  else  I  shall  be  a  merchant  like  the  one  ruling  the  caravan 
that  just  now  went  by.” 

And  there  stirred  within  him  something,  he  knew  not  what. 

He  counted  his  sheep  and  his  goats,  went  on  again  unto  yet  higher 
ground,  where  he  knew  he  might  observe  the  city  of  Cyrene  more 


1  On  the  very  late  introduction  of  camels  into  Cyrenaica,  see  Lefebure,  “Le 
Chameau  en  Lgypte,”  in  “Actes  du  XIY  Congres  International  des  Orientalistes, 
Alger,  1905,”  Deuxieme  Partie,  pp.  50-55. 


THE  DREAM 


23 


plainly.  And  behold!  there  was  coming  from  the  gate  of  the  city 
a  roaring  multitude,  and  one  who  bore  a  cross.  The  cross  was  laid 
down.  When  it  was  raised,  there  was  one  (as  he  could  barely  see) 
fixed  upon  it.  And  he  knew  that  that  man  must  be  some  malefactor. 
He  turned  away  his  head,  looking  past  the  city,  past  its  sea-port 
Apollonia — a  long  white  streak  running  beside  the  blue  ocean. 

He  thought  of  the  commerce  which  he  knew  that  the  caravans 
took  to  that  port,  to  be  laden  upon  ships.  Something  in  him  again 
stirred. 

But  when  he  had  glanced  once  more  at  the  cross,  and  the  thing 
he  knew  to  be  a  man  upon  it,  said  he:  “No,  no.  I  will  only  be  a 
shepherd.  Not  for  Augustus  Csesar  himself,  ruler  of  the  whole 
world —  Here  is  quietness  and  peace.  I  shall  never  be  aught  but 
a  shepherd.  ” 

He  lay  down  and  slept. 

And  behold,  in  his  dreams,  it  seemed  that  an  excellent  voice,  but 
sad  beyond  the  sadness  of  all  the  world,  came  unto  him,  saying: 
“Samson!  Solomon!  I  have  many  great  things  for  thee  to  do.” 

He  opened  his  eyes,  and  there,  betwixt  him  and  the  city,  rapidly 
running  down  the  steep  hillside,  was  the  beautiful  maiden  which 
dwelt  in  the  synagogue  with  the  old  Chazzan,  Betah,  she  that  was 
all  obedience,  righteousness,  purity  and  love. 

And  he  perceived  that  the  maiden  was  calling  unto  him,  but,  as 
yet,  he  could  not  quite  make  out  her  voice.  Perhaps  because  of  the 
sweetly  solemn  dream  that  still  lingered  in  him,  he  felt,  as  he  watched 
her  bright  and  beautiful  coming,  a  premonition  as  of  things  beyond 
the  realm  of  time,  things  which  could  never  be  altered  by  the  will 
of  any  man,  howsoever  skilful  and  howsoever  enduring. 

By  this  the  young  girl  had  come  anigh  unto  him.  He  called 
to  her,  being  eager  in  the  matter:  “The  Lord  be  praised  for  thee, 
O  Amahnah.  Hast  thou  some  heavy  message  for  me?” 

She  lifted  her  face,  and  answered  and  said  unto  him:  “The 
Lord  be  gracious  to  thee.  I  come  from  the  Chazzan.  I  have  tidings 
and  a  command.  Thy  father — both  Shem  ben-Adam  and  also  the 
man  thy  father  doth  name  the  Mongrel,  or  Trivialis,  he  that  is  made 
of  many  nations  and  is  thy  father’s  steward — they  two  are  sorely 
beset  by  idolaters.  Haste  therefore,  unto  them,  and  get  them  out  of 
harm.” 

But  Samson  answered,  1  ‘  The  sheep  !  ’  ’ 

Said  Amahnah,  “Talkest  thou  of  sheep,  when  the  beni-Adam,  the 
children  of  men,  are  in  danger  ?  Go  to  the  city,  taking  thy  sling  and 
thy  strong  staff,  and  I  will  press  on  farther  into  the  fields,  till  I 


24 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


find  another  shepherd  (albeit  he  is  only  a  hireling).  Then  will  I 
follow  thee.  ” 

She  darted  in  among  the  hills,  and  was  lost  to  view. 

Now  the  melancholy  cries  of  innumerable  sheep  came  to  Samson’s 
ears  (for  that  the  animals  required  shepherding)  stirring  within  his 
soul  a  marvelous  feeling  of  responsibility,  a  well-nigh  intolerable 
presage  of  great  sorrow,  of  incalculable  doom,  disaster. 

Yet  the  young  man  set  briskly  forth. 

As  he  ran  upon  the  way,  however,  he  began  to  remember  many 
things,  even  to  vision  and  to  dream  a  little.  After  a  time  he  loitered, 
being  held  as  in  a  vise  by  the  thought  of  his  recent  idolatry.  He 
saw  with  crystal  inner  eye  that  he  must  be  either  a  worshipper  of 
El-Shaddai  or  else  an  idolater.  Both  he  could  not  be.  His  soul  was 
troubled:  he  tried  to  think  of  other  things. 

He  therefore  recalled  Trivialis,  his  father’s  steward,  a  person 
given  at  many  seasons  to  drinking  unwatered  wines.  He  hated  that 
man  for  the  jests  he  had  uttered  about  El-Shaddai,  hated  the  very 
stoop  of  his  shoulders,  the  colors  of  his  robe :  so  that  of  a  sudden  he 
felt  a  furious  leaping  up  of  strength.  He  thought  he  had  the  jester’s 
brittle  bones  in  his  fingers.  He  brake  the  bones — as  it  seemed — cast 
them  away. 

And  behold,  he  had  broken  his  shepherd’s  crook,  and  cast  away 
that! 

Then  his  heart  was  troubled.  Said  he,  ‘ ‘  What  is  this  which  thou 
hast  done?  Wilt  thou  destroy  thy  father’s  steward,  the  man  trusted 
of  thy  father?”  He  did  remind  himself  of  many  a  fond  little  thing 
which  the  jester  had  made,  in  years  gone  by,  as  for  him,  even  Samson- 
Solomon  of  Cyrene:  how  the  Mongrel  had  built  for  him  little  clay 
caravans  of  horses,  like  to  the  caravans  of  Cyrenaica,  yet  again  of 
camels  and  swift-running  dromedaries,  like  the  caravans  of  Egypt. 
He  yearned  at  the  recollection.  Said  he:  “Yet  I  would  have  slain 
this  man.  I  am  Cain,  I  am  Cain.” 

He  saw  that  one  or  the  other  of  two  plain  ways  he  must  take  as 
concerning  Trivialis.  He  either  must  hate  him  and  kill  him,  or  else 
love  him  and  forgive. 

The  sun  grew  brighter.  He  said,  i  1  I  will  love  my  father ’s  steward 
and  forgive  him.” 

“I  will  help  thee,”  said  a  gentle  voice. 

Turning,  he  beheld  Amahnah,  who  was  coming  up  behind.  Said 
she,  “I  have  got  thee  help  for  the  sheep,  now  I  will  also  help  thee 
that  thou  do  no  sin.  But  let  us  hasten.  Truly  the  idolaters  beset 
thy  father  and  his  steward  sorely.” 


THE  DREAM 


25 


So  they  took  each  other  by  the  hand,  and  ran.  And  the  dreaming 
boy  beheld  their  shadows  stretching  out  before  them  over  the  varying 
roughnesses  of  the  highway,  torn  and  distorted  and  mangled,  but 
united  in  the  dust. 

Said  Amahnah,  ‘  ‘  See  how  fast  we  go !  I  am  bringing  thy  strength 
to  succor  them.  Behold!  the  world  is  full  of  a  great  joy!” 

....  Now,  old  Shem,  when  the  Chazzan  had  gone  back  into  the 
synagogue,  went  to  the  wine-house  which  the  Chazzan  had  pointed 
out  to  him,  and,  taking  his  place  among  the  trees  at  the  side  of  the 
square  before  the  temple,  began,  as  he  watched  the  wine-house  door¬ 
way,  to  murmur  about  the  Sopherim.  Had  not  Rabbi  Nechuniah, 
for  one  ensample,  exclaimed :  “I  thank  thee,  0  Lord  my  God,  that 
thou  hast  cast  my  lot  amongst  those  who  frequent  the  schools,  and 
not  among  the  idlers  of  the  wine-shops:  I  run  and  they  run,  I  run 
towards  everlasting  life,  and  they  flee  to  the  pit”?  And  again  had 
not  the  Scriptures  said,  “Who  hath  woe?  Who  hath  sorrow?  Who 
hath  babbling?  Who  hath  wounds  without  cause?  Who  hath  red¬ 
ness  of  eyes?  They  that  tarry  long  at  the  wine.”  And  yet  again, 
had  not  the  Sopherim  in  Jerusalem  declared — 

But  Shem  arrived  not  at  the  end  of  the  saying,  for  a  mighty 
noise  issued  from  the  wine-house.  Then  the  steward,  Trivialis,  scrip 
in  one  hand,  bulging  wine-skin  in  the  other,  came  running  forth  also, 
flushed  and  with  loud  laughter,  and  with  the  old  caupona  (keeper 
of  the  tavern)  after  him.  Behind  the  caupona  roared  a  crowd  of 
drunken  Berbers,  Greeks,  and  Romans,  some  with  drawn  knives, 
others  with  clubs.  “Down  with  the  stealer  of  the  wine-skin!  By 
Bacchus !  By  Hercules !  ’  ’ 

And  the  Chazzan,  Betah,  peering  from  the  door  of  the  synagogue, 
and  seeing  the  old  man,  Shem,  start  out  of  the  shrubbery,  as  if  he 
did  intend  some  sort  of  succor  for  his  steward,  called  unto  him 
Amahnah,  and  dispatched  her  to  the  country,  saying:  “Haste  thee! 
Tarry  not !  Samson !  The  idolaters  attack  both  Trivialis  and  Shem.  ’  ’ 

But  soldiers  of  the  watch,  whenas  the  maiden  had  departed,  com¬ 
ing  round  a  temple  corner,  and  seeing  the  disorder  and  the  fighting, 
dispersed  the  combatants  quickly,  and  getting  the  skin  for  themselves, 
marched  off  rejoicing. 

Then  called  unto  him  the  old  Jew  his  steward,  and  said:  “What 
thing  is  this  which  thou  hast  done?  Laugh  not,  but  declare.  What 
say  the  Sopherim?  ‘A  man  of  levity  is  like  a  tree  without  root. 
It  easily  diethC  ” 

Then  said  Trivialis,  who  still  did  hold  his  scrip:  “Laugh  I? 
I  have  much  to  laugh  at.  Sometimes  it  seemeth,  Master,  as  if  all 


26 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


the  world  were  made  for  laughing.  It  is  full  of  jokes  and  the 
queerest — good  wines  also.  But  hold  thine  aged  hands  out.  Heft  the 
scrip  which  now  I  return.  ” 

Reached  out  Shem  his  hands,  and  his  steward  placed  the  scrip 
between  them.  The  hands  could  not  support  the  scrip,  for  it  was 
too  heavy.  The  bag  fell  to  the  ground. 

Then  laughed  Trivialis  another  time,  saying:  “Have  I  root? 
The  root  of  evil.  Yea  and  pearls  and  rubies  also.  What  told  I  thee 
ere  I  started  on  my  journey?  Said  I  not,  ‘For  myself  I  have  no 
luck;  for  another  great  success  always’ ?” 

“What!  hast  thou  revenged  me  on  that  man  of  blood  and  brass? 
Is  it  true?” 

“I  have  revenged  thee,”  said  the  steward,  picking  up  the  scrip. 
“The  man  hath  lost  his  business  utterly,  is  ruined.  Nor  can  the  law 
ever  touch  thee.  And,  even  while  I  did  the  thing  thou  hadst  ordered 
me  to  do,  I  earned  thee  all  this  wealth.” 

Then  cast  old  Shem  his  trembling  arms  about  the  steward.  Said 
he,  “I  have  done  thee  wrong,  0  my  steward.  I  knew  thee  for  a 
bibber  of  wines —  What  say  the  Sopherim?  But  tell  me  about  the 
voyage,  and  about  thee  and  thy  health.” 

“My  health  is  perfect.  The  voyage  was  beautiful.  I  played 
jokes  on  captain  and  passengers  alike.  Yet  I  drank  no  wine  till  thy 
plan  of  revenge  was  fully  consummated.  Then,  having  attended  to  my 
master ’s  business,  I  did  allow  myself  some  little — well,  thou  knowest.  ’  ’ 

“I  know.  And  now,  good  servant,  I  will  reward  thee  richly  when 
we  get  again  home.  Meantime —  Pardon,  0  Son,  I  truly  must  give 
thee  a  little  advice — a  little  instruction —  What  say  the  Sopherim? 
Say  they  not  that  a  word  in  season  is  like  rain  in  the  spring?  Yes, 
so  those  men,  those  holy  men,  do  surely  say.  But  now  for  the 
instruction. 

“Behold,  I  mean  as  concerning  my  son,  Samson.  Now  listen. 
Keep  thou  from  rousing  that  young  man’s  anger  toward  thee.  He 
is  stronger  than  lions,  and  stubborn — thou  wouldst  not  believe.” 

‘  ‘  I  have  seen  that,  Master.  All  that  know  the  young  lad  say  from 
time  to  time,  he  will  be  a  person  inflexible.  Rather,  they  say,  You 
can  bend  him  but  you  cannot  break  him.” 

Shem:  “He  hath  given  me  much  concern  in  this  matter — this 
way  in  which  he  doth  ever,  having  formed  a  purpose,  hang  to  it. 
His  dear  mother,  Shemaiah,  when  still  she  lived,  tried,  but  in  vain, 
to  wean  him  of  all  that,  and  I  have  attempted  to  correct  it,  even  by 
violence.  It  was  all  exactly  as  if  we  had  not  tried.  His  mother  and 
I  shed  many  a  tear  about  that.  Yet  sometimes  I  have  thought  that 


THE  DREAM 


27 


perhaps  the  Nameless  One  had  in  this  quality  of  Samson,  or  Solomon, 
some  deep  purpose  of  His  own.” 

Trivialis:  1 ‘The  old  Chazzan  hath  indeed  said  so,  and  he  hath 
also  had  dreams  concerning  the  matter,  such  as  that  an  angel  hath 
said  unto  him  that  the  Lord  hath  had  a  purpose  in  this,  the  inflexible 
will  of  thy  son.  And,  ever  since  I  became  a  proselyte  of  the  Gate, 
I  too  have  thought  that  the  dream  of  the  Chazzan  might  have  boded 
truly.  ’  ’ 

Shem:  “Being  of  such  a  stubborn  disposition,  then,  he  should 
be  taunted  no  more.  He  is  ill,  too  much  aroused.  He  would  follow 
thee  over  the  earth.  I  cannot  understand  his  vengefulness.  And,  in 
particular,  avoid  slighting  reference  to  the  Chazzan ’s  dreams  about 
him,  especially  mock  not  his  lineage,  his  family,  his  race,  his  tribal 
ancestry,  his  descent  from  Abraham — his  holy  title  to  the  priesthood, 
for  he  comes  of  Aaron.  Thou  lookest  down,  I  see.  It  is  well.  Thou 
art  ashamed.  Be  not  so  roysterous.  Thou  art  a  good,  grave  man, 
an  excellent  servant — and  yet —  His  strength  is  as  the  strength  of 
many  tempests,  and  his  soul,  though  loving,  is  fierce.  My  son!  My 
son!  At  times,  Trivialis,  thou  tryest  him  sorely.  I  fear,  I  fear. 
I  fear  both  for  thee  and  for  him.  Wilt  thou  not  promise  me — ” 

The  tears  fell  down  the  old  man’s  cheeks. 

Then  dropped  to  the  ground  Trivialis  of  Cyrene,  steward  of  Shem 
ben -Adam.  He  took  his  master’s  garments  in  his  fingers,  and  did 
himself  weep.  He  kissed  the  hem.  of  the  simlah  again  and  yet  again. 
Cried  he  to  his  master,  “I  have  sinned,  I  have  sinned.  I  know  not 
what  demon  entereth  into  me,  but,  at  times,  when  I  see  anyone  serious 
or  serene,  I  am  constrained  forcibly  to  mock  him.  Yet,  after  all,  I 
may  love  him,  0  Master.  What  was  I  when  thou  didst  find  me?  A 
slave  in  the  old  city  of  Occidentalis,  a  slave  to  Ignorantia.  Are  not 
my  shoulders  bent  and  twisted  still  with  all  that  aforetime  servitude  ? 
Thou — dost  not  thou  remember  also?” 

“I  remember.” 

“Aye,  Master,  thou  didst  liberate  me.  Then  thou  gavest  me, 
further,  knowledge  of  the  sun-dial,  taught  me  the  Mazzaroth —  I  am 
ever  thy  debtor;  I  dwell  in  the  tents  of  Shem;  I  shall  not  forget.” 

1 1  Enough !  ’  ’ 

“Thou  gavest  me  also  the  stone  of  Opportunitas,  the  which  she 
had  given  unto  thee  in  times  gone  before.  See,  I  still  have  it  here — 
here  at  the  end  of  a  chain  about  my  neck.  How  clear  and  green 
this  stone,  symbol  of  youth  and  hope,  opportunity  itself!  What  a 
lustre!  What  a  light!  How  the  buyers  of  gems,  the  changers  of 
money —  ’  ’ 


28 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


1 ‘  Enough.  It  is  thine.  Thou  didst  earn  it  well,  for  thou — ” 

“But  the  unlawful  son  of  Ignorantia — Avidus?  Dost  thou  not 
remember  him  also? — I  am  fain  to  laugh.” 

‘ 1  Enough !  Enough ! 9 1 

“But  Avidus,  Avidus  and  Ignorantia!” 

“Mind  not  Avidus  and  Ignorantia,  for  now,  0  my  steward,  I 
would  say  unto  thee  that,  barring  thy  levity,  and,  ofttimes,  thy 
scornful  mocking,  thou  hast  more  than  repaid  me  all  that  I  have  ever 
done  for  thee.  Rise,  then.  Up !  So,  embrace  me.  And  now  that 
thou  hast  accomplished  so  much  on  this,  thy  dangerous  journey  just 
passed,  I  will  even  send  thee  at  once  on  yet  another  journey.  Wilt 
thou  go?” 

Trivialis  saith,  “I  will  go.” 

And  after  a  little  further  discourse  about  the  matter,  Shem  com¬ 
manded  him:  “Take,  therefore,  with  thee  large  sums  of  money. 
And  set  up,  even  there  in  Rhodes,  a  competing  shop,  in  the  Street 
of  the  Tripods,  beside  the  little  inn  of  Nemesis.  Sell  there  oil  and 
figs  below  the  price  at  which  the  man  can  buy  them.  Then  shall 
TIostilis  be  also  ruined.  He  did  my  father  a  great  injury,  Hostilis. 
Besides,  he  hath  mocked  at  Adonai.  Violate  no  law,  but,  wherever 
the  man  doth  set  up  a  shop — be  not  merciful.  Remember.  Swear.” 

“I  swear,”  said  the  steward,  “but — what  say  the  Sopherim? — See ! 
There  cometh  a  crowd  back  from  the  amphitheatre,  and,  as  it  seemeth, 
in  an  ugly  mood,  which  bodeth  no  good  for  us  Jews.” 

1  ‘  Thou  a —  Let  us  on,  then,  to  the  synagogue  yard,  ’ 9  said  Shem. 
“Meanwhile,  say  nothing  unto  my  son,  Samson,  as  concerneth  thy 
scheme  for  revenge.  He  is  young.  He  is  apt  to  draw  conclusions. 
God  protect  him  and  keep  him  from  all  idolatries.  My  son,  my  son ! 
Would  my  son  were  here.” 

“Thou  hast  thy  wish,”  said  the  steward,  “I  am  fain  to  laugh.” 

And  behold!  both  Samson  and  Amahnah  coming  in  from  the 
country. 

The  Chazzan  motioned  them  all  to  come  to  the  synagogue  yard. 
There  he  took  Trivialis  apart,  and  questioned  him  about  the  perils 
of  his  recent  journey — the  sweet,  old,  dignified  Chazzan,  with  his 
fatherly  ways,  his  deep  serenity,  his  rare,  mysterious  wisdom.  And 
the  steward  was  bashful  before  him,  and  cast  his  timid  glances  to 
the  ground. 

But  Samson  and  Amahnah  went  over  before  the  synagogue.  And 
the  maiden  looked  at  the  lad,  and  loved  him  for  his  strength  and 
great  tenacity  of  purpose  and  for  his  adoration  of  the  Lord.  And 
Samson  saw  the  maiden  also,  her  simplicity  of  heart,  her  obedience, 


THE  DREAM 


29 


her  wisdom  and  her  love  of  duty.  But  he  knew  not  that  he  loved 
her.  So  he  merely  declared  unto  her,  “Thou  seemest  to  me  always, 
0  Amahnah,  to  dwell  very  near  to  the  beautiful  presence  of  El- 
Sliaddai.” 

She  said  unto  him,  “Dwell  there  with  me.” 

“I  know  that  El-Shaddai  liveth, ”  said  the  lad,  “for  I  hear  His 
voice  in  every  little  wind  that  bloweth  and  in  the  loud  thunder,  and 
I  can  see  about  me  ten  thousand  things  which  He  hath  done  and 
which  no  one  else  than  He  could  do.” 

And  Samson  feared  to  tell  her  that  he  longed  to  behold  Adonai 
El-Shaddai  with  his  eyes,  to  speak  with  Him,  to  take  Him  by 
the  hand,  to  be  His  friend.  He  said  further  only,  “My  father  and 
the  steward  are  going.  Peace  be  unto  thee.” 

She  answered,  “Go  into  peace,”  and  made  him  a  heavenly  gesture 
both  of  tenderness  and  love. 

But  the  Chazzan  came  to  Samson.  And  his  countenance  was  as 
the  countenance  of  Moses  and  them  that  were  with  him,  and  that 
were  before  him,  and  that  were  a  little  after  him.  Taking  a  theca , 
or  locket,  which  hung  about  his  own  neck,  he  placed  the  chain  about 
the  neck  of  Samson,  saying:  “Behold,  0  Samson-Solomon,  my  son! 
I  knew  thee  in  the  school.1  And  later  I  have  seen  that  thou  art  a 
man  to  be  trusted.  Not  all  are  so.  Hence,  now,  I  give  to  thee  this 
precious  gift.  ’Twas  always  thine,  even  from  the  foundations.  ’Twas 
thine  or  ere  I  found  thee  in  the  prison  of  the  King  of  the  South, 
and  thence  did,  with  many  a  wandering,  fetch  thee.  Ensealed  in  the 
theca  are  three  bright  pearls,  which,  on  a  day,  thou  It  know  the 
meaning  of.  Around  these  pearls  a  bit  of  parchment.  On  the  parch¬ 
ment  thou  shalt  find,  plain  writ,  the  proof  and  witness  of  thy  lineage.2 
Thou,  as  thou  knowest,  art  surely  descended  from  the  tribe  of  Levi, 
the  family  of  Aaron,  and  even  of  the  course  of  Jedaiah,  so  that  thou 
art  relative  unto  the  great  High  Priest  in  Jerusalem.  Is  it  not  so? 
It  is  so,  my  son. 

1  The  Chazzan,  or  “Officer  of  the  Synagogue,”  was,  not  only  in  Palestine  but 
throughout  the  Diaspora,  the  regular  school-master  for  Jewish  children. 

2  With  regard  to  the  keeping  of  priests’  genealogies  in  those  days,  Flavius 
Josephus,  writing  just  a  little  later  than  the  time  above  supposed  (he  was  born 
37  A.  D.)  has  the  following  passage:  “For  our  forefathers  did  not  only  appoint 
the  best  of  these  priests,  and  those  that  attended  upon  the  Divine  worship,  for 
that  design  from  the  beginning,  but  made  provision  that  the  stock  of  the  priests 
should  continue  unmixed  and  pure;  for  he  who  is  partaker  of  the  priesthood  must 

propagate  of  a  wife  of  the  same  nation . And  this  is  our  practice  not  only 

in  Judea,  but  wheresoever  any  body  of  men  of  our  nation  do  live;  and  even  there 
an  exact  catalogue  of  our  priests’  marriages  is  kept;  I  mean  at  Egypt  and  at 
Babylon,  or  in  any  other  place  of  the  rest  of  the  habitable  earth,  whithersoever 
our  priests  are  scattered;  for  they  send  to  Jerusalem  the  ancient  names  of  their 
parents  in  writing,  as  well  as  those  of  their  remoter  ancestors,  and  signify  who 
are  the  witnesses  also.” — “Against  Apion,”  Book  I,  Sec.  7. 


30 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


“But  tliy  genealogy,  it  is  only  in  the  Jerusalem  records  and  on 
the  parchment  in  this  locket.  Keep  thou,  then,  the  locket:  for  it 
may  be  that  the  High  Priest  in  J erusalem  shall  not  be  favorable  unto 
thee,  on  the  day  when  thou  shalt  go  up  unto  him,  and  then  thou 
shalt  surely  need  that  the  proof  of  thy  lineage  shall  be  in  thine  own 
very  hands.  Thou  art  a  humble  kinsman,  he  a  great- — ” 

“I  will  keep  the  locket,  0  Father.’ ’ 

“It  is  well.  I  gave  it  not  unto  Shem,  because  he  was  not  wholly 
Adonai’s,  as  thee  I  know  indeed  to  be.  Moreover,  he  never  wrould 
care  with  his  heart  to  allege  his  birth  and  title  to  the  priesthood. 
But  thou — thou — ”  He  looked  afar  off,  as  if  he  were  seeing  the 
face  of  curious  things.  Then  again  he  gazed  at  Samson. 

Samson  said,  “I  am  glad  to  have  this  locket.  It  may  some  time 
happen  that  I  shall  go  to  Jerusalem,  and  there  shall  seek  to  establish 
my  title,  and  so  become  a  priest.  ’  ’ 

Bet  ah:  “Son,  there  hath  been  given  unto  me  a  prophetic  eye. 
And  I  do  clearly  behold  that,  even  shouldst  thou  follow  thine  own 
base  passions  (which  Heaven  forbid)  even  so  thou  wouldst  still  be 
on  thy  way  to  that  which  thou  couldst  not  prevent,  even  though  thou 
wouldst.  ’  ’ 

“0  Father,”  said  Samson  then,  “I  never  will  go  to  Jerusalem. 
But  yet  I  promise  thee  truly,  by  all  the  laws  thou  gavest  me  whenas 
I  was  captive  unto  the  King  of  the  South — yea,  and  later  also — that 
I  will  ever  keep  the  locket.” 

“Thou  wilt  go  to  Jerusalem.  But,  0  my  son,  promise.  Promise 
me  holily  thou ’It  never  loose  this  locket  from  its  chain,  its  chain 
from  off  thy  neck,  or  open  the  locket  out  of  any  cause,  lest,  didst 
thou  otherwise,  the  parchment  or  the  pearls  were  wholly  lost  forever, 
thy  title  to  the  priesthood  with  them.” 

“Father,  I  promise.” 

“It  is  well.  I  long  have  known  thee  for  a  lad  of  strength  and 
great  endurance,  as  well  as  of  deep  religious  qualities.  But,  O  my 
son !  ’  ’ 

‘  ‘  Father  ?  ’  ’ 

“The  very  depth  and  high  sincerity  of  thy  religiousness  is  apt 
to  lead  thee  astray.” 

‘  ‘  Me !  Father !  ’  ’ 

“Thou  hangest  thy  head.  Remember.  Go  into  peace.” 

But  Samson-Solomon  at  first  would  not  go,  being  in  a  strange 
terror. 

Said  the  Chazzan:  “Thy  very  name,  which  is  Samson-Solomon, 
meaneth  Strength  and  Wisdom.  My  name,  it  is  Betah,  which,  by 


THE  DREAM 


31 


interpretation,  meanetli  Hope.  And  hope  give  I  unto  thee,  as  unto 
many  another,  but  unto  thee  first  of  all.  Thou  hast  had  calls  from 
Elohim  ere  now,  and  shalt  have  them  hereafter.  For  lo !  the  Lord 
will  have  thee  with  Him  once  and  yet  again.  And  He  shall  speak 
to  thee  at  times  throughout  thy  life.  Fear  not,  so  long  as  thou  art 
faithful.  But  if  thou  shalt  be  unfaithful,  and  shalt  persevere  in 
thine  unfaithfulness,  then  shalt  thou  be  a  wanderer  among  the  nations. 
And  among  these  nations  shalt  thou  find  no  ease,  and  there  shall  be 
no  rest  for  the  sole  of  thy  foot.  Thy  life  shall  hang  in  doubt  before 
thee ;  and  thou  shalt  fear  night  and  day,  and  shalt  have  none  assurance 
of  thy  life:  in  the  morning  thou  shalt  say,  Would  God  it  were  even! 
and  at  even  thou  shalt  say,  Would  God  it  were  morning!  for  the  fear 
of  thine  heart  which  thou  shalt  fear,  and  for  the  sight  of  thine  eyes 
which  thou  shalt  see. 

“But  how  goodly  are  thy  tents,  0  Samson-Solomon  of  Cyrenaica! 
Thou  hast  the  strength  of  the  wild-ox  and  the  wisdom  of  a  thousand 
foxes.  Even  if  thou  shalt  fail  in  the  duties  of  thy  priesthood,  even 
then  thou  shalt  have  a  bright  and  morning  star  to  be  as  a  guide  to 
thee  in  the  ways  where  thou  shalt  wander.  ” 

‘  ‘  But — I  am  full  of  sin, ’ ’  groaned  the  lad,  remembering  the  hawk. 

Betah,  thereupon,  lifted  up  his  hands  in  prayer,  saying :  “0  Lord, 
if  now  thou  wilt  forgive  his  sin — ;  but,  if  not,  blot  me,  I  pray  thee, 
out  of  Thy  book  which  Thou  hast  written.’  ’ 

And  Samson,  seeing  that  the  old  man  loved  him  so  dearly,  wept 
in  the  extreme. 

And  when  Betah  had  made  an  end  of  praying,  he  stood  for  a 
very  long  time,  looking,  as  one  that  saw  afar,  into  the  dim  ways 
of  the  East.  Then  again,  looking,  as  one  that  saw  afar,  into  the 
still  mistier  ways  of  the  West. 

He  passed  into  the  synagogue. 

Said  Samson’s  father  unto  him,  “Go,  son,  unto  my  house  in  the 
country,  thou  and  Trivialis  also.  As  for  me,  I  have  both  buying 
and  selling  to  see  to  in  the  sheep-market.  I  will  come  when  all  is 
finished.  What  say  the  Sopherim?  Go  in  peace.” 

So  Samson  and  the  steward  went  into  the  country,  and  the  earliest 
words  that  the  steward  uttered  to  the  son  of  Shem  were:  “I  am 
fain  to  laugh.” 

“Why,  0  man  of  many  nations,”  asked  the  lad,  “art  thou  com¬ 
pelled  to  laughter?” 

“Oh,  for  just  nothing  at  all.” 

“Then  thou  laughest  easily.” 

“Thou  hast  a  certain  locket.” 


32 


SIMON  OF  GYRENE 


“Truly.  ’Tis  my  pride.’’ 

“Now  thou  lookest  an  it  were  a  young  Roman  boy,  with  his  bulla 
still  about  his  neck.  To  what  heathen  woman  wilt  thou  give  the 
bauble?  To  a  harlot?  Nay,  nay;  blush  not.  I  see  thou  hast  had 
thy  thoughts  already.  I  knew  not  I  should  come  so  close.” 

But  Samson  remembered  that  the  man  was  the  trusted  of  his 
father.  So  he  smote  him  not,  neither  answered  he  him  bitterly. 

And  still  the  steward  grew  more  and  more  insolent,  so  that  the 
Jew  remained  behind  and  loitered  in  the  roadway.  And  behold! 
before  they  twain  had  gotten  home,  the  sun  was  a-sinking. 

Samson  went  into  the  house,  and  passed  the  merry  shepherds  in 
the  courtyard,  saluting  them  not,  and  on  to  his  private  chamber,  which 
was  on  the  roof.  And  there  he  cursed  with  a  most  bitter  heart 
Trivialis.  Again  and  yet  again  cursed  he  him,  invoking  Heaven 
that  that  man  might  never  more  have  peace.  And  he  took  up  another 
shepherd’s  staff  and  brake  it  into  fragments,  crying:  “So  would  I 
do  to  thee,  and  more  also,  0  Trivialis,  detested  mongrel  of  all  the 
nations.  ’ 9 

Then  he  said,  of  a  sudden,  “Oh,  I  have  sinned.  The  man  is  well 
loved  of  my  father.  I  have  sinned.  I,  also,  will  love  him.  And 
hath  he  not  made  me  out  of  clay  both  horses  and  camels  and  little 
swift  dromedaries?” 

He  saw  once  more  that  he  should  have  to  love  this  trivial  man 
with  all  his  heart  or  else  slay  him.  Therefore  said  he,  “I  will  teach 
myself  to  love  the  man,  and  that  with  all  my  soul.  For  I  would  not 
slay  him.  He  is  not  altogether  bad,  and  he  pleaseth  the  heart  of 
my  father.” 

And  at  this  there  came  up  from  the  court  a  chorus  of  shrill  cries 
from  the  servingmen  and  from  the  servingwomen,  and  also  from 
Trivialis,  and  from  many  of  the  shepherds.  “Oh,  woe  is  me,  woe 
is  me!  That  I  had  never  seen  this  day!” 

There  entered  at  his  door  the  old  Chazzan,  and  also  closed  it, 
saying:  “Open  not  the  door  again,  my  son,  until  I  have  told  thee 
all. — Behold  the  fruits  of  idolatry!  I  have  preached  and  the  Lord 
hath  taught  by  the  lips  of  myself  and  by  rabbis,  but  behold!  the 
workers  of  iniquity,  they  continue  in  their  evil  ways. — Release  me, 
O  my  son,  and  shake  me  not  to  pieces. 

“Have  I  not  ever  said  unto  thy  father  what  the  end  of  his  ways 
must  surely  be? — Rend  not  my  garments,  Son,  but  tear  rather  thine 
own.  Thy  father,  when  he  left  thee  and  Trivialis,  whither  did  he 
stray?  Unto  the  women  that  worship  in  the  temple  of  Aphrodite. 
0  my  son,  my  son.” 


THE  DREAM 


33 


Samson  cryeth,  “My  father!  Is  he  dead?” 

The  Chazzan  said  unto  him,  “No  one  knoweth  who  hath  killed 
him.  *  ’ 

And  when  the  boy  had  rushed  down  into  the  courtyard  and  gazed 
on  the  face  of  his  father,  and  all  the  gaping  wounds  in  his  breast, 
then  said  unto  him  the  Chazzan:  “Knowest  thou  not,  0  Son,  that 
it  is  not  well  that  anyone  should  gaze  for  long  on  the  face  of  a  man 
lying  asleep?” 

So  he  led  the  lad  aside,  and  the  body  was  wrapped  in  perfumed 
linen  cloths,  and  the  “travelling  dress”  put  on  it.  And  the  thumbs 
were  turned  till  the  hands  did  spell  the  dread  word  “Shaddai,” 
and  bound  up  with  a  zizit.  Then  a  shard  was  laid  across  the  eyes, 
a  staff  beneath  the  hands,  and  a  pillow  of  earth  beneath  the  head, 
from  the  Valley  of  Jehosaphat,  which  lieth  to  the  eastward  of  Jeru¬ 
salem. 

And  the  neighbors  came  from  far  and  near  and  mourned  exceed¬ 
ingly. 

And,  on  the  morrow,  a  rabbi  who  had  been  sent  for  from  afar, 
arrived,  and  the  Chazzan  came  also  again,  and  the  funeral  words 
were  spoken,  and  the  body  carried  out  from  the  house.  Then  took 
Leah,  which  was  also  Amahnah,  all  the  couches  and  the  chairs  and 
reversed  them.  And,  having  done  this,  she  and  the  other  women  led 
the  way  in  the  funeral  procession — for  woman,  as  the  Rabbi  said 
unto  them  (and  as  was  the  custom  at  a  funeral  in  those  days)  having 
brought  death  into  the  world,  should  lead  the  way  to  the  tomb. 

And  they  marched  on  toward  the  city,  and  when  they  had  come 
to  the  tomb  in  which  Shemaiah  lay,  they  took  the  corpse  of  Shem, 
and  laid  it  by  her. 

And  then  they  returned  to  their  houses  of  life. 

And  Samson-Solomon,  when  he  had  got  back  unto  the  house  which 
had  been  his  father’s,  and  was  now  his,  found  melancholy  joy  in  all 
the  various  objects  which  had  once  belonged  to  Shem.  Yea,  all  that 
was  in  the  court  was  very  dear  to  him — the  shepherds’  crooks  hang¬ 
ing  upon  the  walls,  the  pipes,  the  harps,  even  the  dry  skins  of  sheep, 
the  sprigs  of  last  year’s  silphium.  There  in  a  corner  he  beheld  with 
new  delight  a  miniature  of  the  temple  in  Jerusalem — a  bungling 
thing  which  the  hand  of  Trivialis  had  attempted  to  fashion.  Ah, 
that  ineffable  temple !  He  would  stand  before  it  on  a  certain  day. 
It  was  wholly  a  building  of  glory,  wholly  a  thing  of  Adonai’s — could 
be  viewed,  too,  in  the  very  place  of  Him,  El-Shaddai.  There  was  that 
in  the  Temple  which  might  actually  be  caught  up  by  the  fleshly 
vision — the  snowy  marble  and  the  gleaming  gold ;  likewise  that  which 

3 


34 


SIMON  OF  GYRENE 


might  be  heard  by  the  fleshly  ear — the  singing  and  the  melting  tubes 
of  the  tremulous  water-organ;  and  even  savored  as  an  odor — the 
sweet,  mysterious  incense,  rising  up,  like  tangible  prayer,  to  heaven. 

Then  he  fingered  the  locket  on  his  breast,  and  said:  “I  shall  be 
a  priest  within  that  temple,  a  priest  unto  the  Almighty.  I  must 
ever  keep  this  locket.” 

But  the  Chazzan  came  in,  bringing  by  the  hand  Amahnah. 

He  taketh  the  young  Jew  apart,  and  saith  unto  him :  “See!  This 
maiden  was  a  foundling.  Do  not  the  Sopherim  call  such  an  one  ‘  The 
Child  of  God’?  But  behold!  I  would  have  thee  to  take  her  for 
the  wife  of  thy  bosom,  and  to  be  unto  thee  as  the  promise  of  the 
Lord,  for  thou  art  meant  as  a  priest  in  the  temple  of  the  Most  High. 
For  her  name,  which  is  Leah  (or  Labor)  is  it  not  also  Amahnah,  or 
Berith,  which,  in  the  language  of  our  people  (which  was  given  unto 
us  by  God)  signifieth  ‘ Promise/  or  ‘Covenant’?” 

But  Samson  said  unto  him,  “I  do  thank  thee,  and  bless  thee.  Yet 
is  it  truly  needful  that  one  should  marry  in  great  haste?  I  have 
beheld  few  women,  and  am  very  young.  Let  me,  therefore,  be  alone 
awhile,  and,  in  the  course  of  my  meditations,  I  may  chance  to  think 
of  the  thing  which  I  ought  to  do.” 

The  Chazzan  answered  him,  “My  Son,  my  Son!  I  fear  thou 
art  a  prodigal  with  time.  But  do  as  thou  wilt  for  a  season,  then 
call  back  the  counsel  I  have  given  thee,  and  look  upon  Amahnah,  for 
none  there  is  that  is  like  unto  her,  either  for  wisdom,  or  for  beauty, 
or  for  any  good  thing  at  all.  Hast  thou  the  locket  yet?  It  is  well. 
I  will  leave  thee  now,  but  Amahnah  shall  stay  for  a  season,  and  see 
that  thy  house  is  set  in  order.” 

And  the  Chazzan  went  his  way,  but  Amahnah  remained,  and 
Samson,  as  he  looked  upon  her,  beheld  that  she  turned  and  looked 
at  him.  And  he  saw  that  her  heart  was  pure,  and  that  all  her  counte¬ 
nance  was  very  beautiful,  because  the  radiancy  of  her  spirit  did 
shine  therethrough. 

And  about  this  time  a  company  of  shepherds  came,  with  uncere¬ 
monious  hilarity,  with  pipe  and  with  tabret,  with  harp  and  sweetest 
singing.  And  Amahnah  set  to  work  to  get  them  entertainment,  and 
to  put  much  meat  before  them. 

And  when  they  had  eaten,  they  went,  and  Samson  with  them,  to 
look  after  the  sheep.  And  when  Samson  had  found  his  own  dear 
flock,  then  the  hireling  shepherds  went  on  to  their  pastures  also. 

But  Samson  discovered  a  great  consolation  in  his  sheep,  and  was 
very  kind  unto  them.  He  played  upon  a  little  harp,  and  sang,  and 
the  sheep  skipped  and  the  young  lambs  gambolled.  Samson  said  in 


THE  DREAM 


35 


his  heart:  “I  will  keep  the  steward  of  my  father,  and  he  shall  be 
my  steward  also.  I  will  make  him  better,  if  that  may  be,  but  in  every 
case  will  I  love  him,  for  behold  was  he  not  the  steward  of  my  father  ?  ’  ’ 

He  played  again  upon  his  harp. 

But  out  of  the  flocks  behold!  there  ran  one,  an  old  he-goat  and 
headstrong.  And  he  climbed,  as  is  often  the  way  of  a  foolish  goat, 
up  into  the  twisted  branches  of  a  hideous  thorn-tree. 

And  Samson,  half  forgetting  all  his  recent  sorrow  and  good  resolu¬ 
tions,  cried  out  in  anger  at  the  goat:  “I  will  name  thee  Trivialis, 
sinful  one.  Thou  art  ever  attempting  the  things  thou  canst  not  safely 
do,  and  so  dost  come  by  thorns  and  bruises.  Ho !  let  me  help  thee, 
Beelzebub,  spite  of  thy  foolish  wanderings.  So — let  me  help  thee.” 

The  goat  would  not  come  down,  but  tried  instead  to  get  his  horns 
against  his  helper.  The  shepherd,  waxing  very  wroth,  struck  out  at 
him,  as  he  might  at  a  wolf,  and  the  goat  fell  out  of  the  tree,  and 
seemed,  for  the  turning  of  a  hand,  to  have  perished.  But  then  awoke 
suddenly  to  life,  and  so  ran  off  to  a  little  distance,  where,  with  a 
comical  bleat  or  two,  he  fell  straight  over  and  was  indeed  dead. 

“Hadst  thou  not  rather  herd  swine?”  cried  a  voice  of  jeering. 
Samson,  as  he  turned,  beheld  Trivialis.  And  he  hated  in  that  moment 
the  very  look  of  the  man,  even  his  vesture — the  somber  cloak,  with 
spots  and  rings  of  red  upon  it,  as  if  the  wearer  had  just  committed 
a  murder  (but  unto  Trivialis — as  Samson  well  perceived — the  spot- 
tings  were  comicalities).  And  the  eyes  of  Trivialis  were  far  too 
bright  from  unwatered  wine  and  all  manner  of  clownishness  and 
sheer  hollow  mocks. 

“Good  steward!”  cried  the  boy,  with  much  consideration  (see¬ 
ing  that  the  soul  of  him  was  vexed)  “dost  thou  know  whether  the 
black  ewe  yielded  in  the  night,  or  whether  anyone  was  with  her? 
It  is  time,  the  shepherds  say—” 

“What  know  I  of  ewes,  black  or  white — unless  it  be  a  woman? 
A  steward  unto  a  Hebrew,  I  understand  but  swine.” 

Then  he  cast  a  stone,  and  it  fell  at  the  feet  of  the  Jew.  And 
he  cried,  “What  say  ye?  Let  us  talk  of  swine,  0  priest  of  the  great 
Sheckinah — which  meaneth  ‘the  chief  of  all  the  swine.’  ”  And  com¬ 
ing  up  close,  he  grasped  the  locket  that  was  round  the  young  lad’s 
neck,  shouting:  “What  is  within?  The  tooth  of  a  sucking  pig,  I 
warrant,  or  somebody’s  foreskin.”  And  he  tried  to  break  the  locket 
from  its  chain,  crying :  “To  what  prostitute  wilt  thou  give  it — unto 
Amahnah  ?  ’  ’ 

Then  arose  in  the  soul  of  Samson  all  the  hard-hammered  hate  of 
white-hot  years. 


36 


SIMON  OF  GYRENE 


And  he  struck  therewith,  as  it  were  with  a  weapon  of  strong  iron. 

Then  he  stood  for  a  moment,  thinking  that  the  flow  of  time  itself 
had  eternally  stopped.  What  thing  was  this  that  lay  upon  the 
ground  ? 

He  cried  with  a  shriek,  “Father!  Adonai!  Cain!” 

From  a  block  of  granite  in  a  far-off  hill  came  a  maddening  echo, 
“Cain!”  And  the  lad  leaped  up  and  ran,  like  one  that  saw  not, 
across  the  very  body,  and  stumbled  over  it,  and  fell  prone. 

Arising,  he  forced  his  eyes  to  close  again,  that  he  might  believe 
that  the  body  was  not  before  him.  Yet  he  saw  it,  then,  with  even 
a  greater  distinctness  than  before. 

So  he  took  his  crook  now  and  struck  an  acacia,  as  if  it  were  a 
man.  Then  he  dropped,  wide-eyed,  the  crook,  leaned  over,  beheld 
some  terrible  contortion,  picked  up  his  club  and  ran  away — only, 
at  some  other  acacia,  to  act  out  once  again  the  utter  tragedy  of  his 
ruined  life. 

And  so  he  repeated  incessantly  till  he  came  to  the  road  that  led 
to  his  father’s  tomb.  And  there  he  lifted  up  the  club  for  good  and 
all,  and  ran,  as  it  were  to  a  city  of  refuge,  until  he  had  reached  the 
tomb. 

He  said  to  himself,  “I  will  hide  in  the  tomb  till  the  evening  hath 
fallen,  and  then  I  will  slip  away  to  Apollonia  and  so  to  Rome.  There 
no  man  shall  ever  find  me,  but  I  will  remain  in  hiding  through  the 
remainder  of  my  life.” 

He  tore  away  the  bars  which  closed  the  door  of  the  tomb.  And 
entered  the  place,  and  fell  upon  his  knees,  and  cried  with  all  his 
might:  “Oh,  Adonai,  Adonai!  I  have  sinned.  Wishest  thou  the 
locket?  I  had  thought  that  thou  didst  have  for  me  some  special 
purpose.  Did  not  so  the  Chazzan  say?  Idle  and  foolish  dreamer 
that  I  was,  the  Chazzan  too.  Cain,  Cain,  Cain !  Adonai !  El-Shaddai ! 
Would  that  Shiloh  were  come!” 

In  front  of  the  straining  eyes  of  the  half-wild  shepherd  came 
again  and  yet  again,  as  in  a  kind  of  miniature,  the  sad  procession  of 
-  his  solitary  life.  How  lonely  it  had  been  he  never  before  had  realized. 
There  he  was  as  a  child,  with  the  little  horses  and  dromedaries  which 
the  Mongrel  had  made  for  him  out  of  clay ;  there  again  a  tiny  shep¬ 
herd  lad,  attending  a  solitary,  sad-mouthed  sheep  (which,  also,  the 
Mongrel  had  given  him)  ;  there,  just  a  little  older  grown,  learning 
from  the  lips  of  the  white-haired  Chazzan,  or  gazing  upon  the  little 
Amahnah ;  there,  once  more,  sitting  in  the  lonely,  crowded  synagogue, 
or  following  the  heels  of  his  father  into  the  pastures;  there,  by  a 
mighty  rock,  tearing  apart  the  first  great  wolf  that  ever  he  had  laid 


THE  DREAM 


37 


his  hands  upon — and  so  he  had  been  permitted  by  Trivialis  to  take 
in  charge  a  whole  great  flock.  Then  the  captivity  in  the  South,  the 
return  under  Betah,  the  crook  again  and  the  flocks.  Ah !  the  solitude 
and  the  loneliness  amongst  those  ever-bleating,  ever-dependent  sheep ! 
Yet  in  that  loneliness  and  solitude  he  had  come  to  a  knowledge  of 
Adonai  such  as,  else,  had  been  denied  to  him  forever.  Then  the 
worshipping  of  the  hawk,  the  murder,  the  sudden  flight,  the  tomb! 
Here — 

He  believed  that  the  dim,  sweet  terrors  of  his  youthful  religion 
were  things  long  gone  and  forever  irrevocable. 

“Adonai !” 

He  felt  his  stupid,  fumbling  way  about  the  cold,  clammy,  unyield¬ 
ing  death-chamber,  with  its  insupportable  darknesses ;  its  whispering 
silences;  its  rude,  imperious  conceptions  of  the  recently  living,  but 
now  long-vanished  dead,  till  his  soul  was  filled  with  the  raging  im¬ 
manence  of  impending  disaster,  eternal  sheol — damnation. 

“Adonai!” 

A  horror  of  life  came  over  him  and  a  deep  sleep,  and,  as  he  slept, 
he  murmured:  “I  am  Cain!” 

But  the  Lord  appeared  in  a  dream,  and  said  unto  the  boy: 
“Samson,  Samson!”  And  the  boy  said,  “All  unworthy,  here  am 
I.”  And  the  Lord  said,  “Be  not  wholly  downcast.  Thou  shalt 
serve  me  as  a  lofty  statue,  for  I  know  thy  toughness  and  thy  strength. 
And  behold  I  will  chisel  thee  twice,  the  first  time  roughly  and  the 
second  exceeding  fine.  And  when  I  have  no  further  need  of  thee, 
I  will  break  thee — and  yet  keep  thee.” 

Then  awoke  the  boy,  and  the  hair  was  standing  on  his  head 
and  his  knees  were  as  water. 

And  in  his  heart  was  a  feeling  of  mingled  responsibility  and  joy. 
He  heard,  at  a  little  distance,  the  sound  of  bells  and  of  manly  voices 
singing.  He  looked  from  the  door  of  the  tomb,  and  behold!  a  light 
was  falling  on  the  way. 


BOOK  II.  THE  FAILURE 


CHAPTER  III 
The  Man  of  Worldly  Light 

After  the  Jew  had  left  him,  Trivialis  lay  for  a  long  time  in  a 
deep  sleep.  Then,  by  slow  degrees,  he  arose,  and,  feeling  of  his 
noggin,  whispered  feebly :  ‘  ‘  I  am  fain  to  laugh :  The  goose  hath  laid 
an  egg  in  the  hare’s  nest.” 

After  a  little  he  declared,  in  a  somewhat  stronger  tone:  “I  was 
truly  a  fool  to  anger  such  a  giant,  and  he  a  fool  also.  Aha!  What 
say  the  Sopherim?  Alas!  poor  Shem,  do  I  mock  thee!  Well,  I  will 
carry  out  thy  plan  of  revenge,  even  as  I  did  promise  thee.  Yonder 
go  lights  from  the  city  to  the  desert — even  past  thy  tomb,  0  Shem, 
my  benefactor.  Now  I  wish  I  had  taken  thy  advice.  It  groweth 
dark.  But  wait  a  little,  0  Master  that  did  free  me.  Poor  am  I  at  the 
execution  of  mine  own  designs,  yet,  where  it  doth  concern  the  plan 
and  purpose  of  another —  Oh  thou  shalt  see,  my  Master.  I  am  fain 
to  laugh,  but  now  for  Rhodes !” 

He  gathered  up  his  traveller’s  cloak,  his  bulging  bulga,  and  his 
little  oaken  staff,  and  set  off  in  the  way  of  Cyrene. 

And  he  passed  to  the  side  of  Cyrene  and  went  the  rock-cut  roads 
to  Apollonia,  the  seaport,  being  fully  minded  to  carry  out  the  plan 
which  his  Master  had  given  him,  and  which  should  take  him  to 
Rhodes. 

He  passed  along  the  Apollonian  dock,  whereby  his  ship  lay  at 
anchor,  and  then,  when  he  had  gone  upon  the  ship,  and  come  out 
again,  and  talked  to  many  people,  he  said  to  himself :  ‘ 1 1  will  pur¬ 
chase  a  goodly  store  of  figs,  for  these  be  excellent  eating  out  at  sea.  ’  ’ 
But,  coming  before  the  torch-lit  place  where  the  figs  were  exposed 
to  sale,  he  thought  suddenly  that  he  saw  the  form  of  Samson,  the 
revenger  who  had  sought  his  life  that  day. 

He  also  beheld  that  his  ship  was  weighing  anchor.  Therefore  he 
rushed  speedily  up  the  plank  and  into  the  ship,  crying:  *  ‘I  am  fain 
to  laugh  anyhow.” 

And  he  went  down  into  the  belly  of  the  ship,  where  the  place 
was  on  which  he  was  to  sleep. 

For  many  long  hours  he  came  not  forth  again  on  deck,  but  lay 

38 


THE  FAILURE 


39 


listening  to  the  waves  against  the  planks,  being  both  sore  and  weary 
and  much  afeard  of  Samson. 

After  a  certain  time,  lulled  by  the  rubbing  of  the  waves  and  the 
languorous,  soft  droning  of  the  hortator’s  voice  and  his  muffled 
hammerings,  he  became  drowsy  and  yet  more  drowsy  still.  At  length 
he  both  slumbered  and  slept. 

And  the  Lord  appeared  unto  him  in  a  dream. 

The  Lord  said,  ‘  ‘  Trivialis !  ’  ’ 

Trivialis  answered  and  said  unto  Him,  “Jehovah,  O  Jehovah! 
Here  am  I.” 

The  Lord  said  yet  again,  4  ‘  Trivialis !  ’  ’ 

And  Trivialis  once  more  answered  the  Lord,  saying :  “  J ehovah, 
here  am  I.” 

The  Lord  said,  “Trivialis,  the  thing  which  thou  wouldst  do  is 
abhorrent  unto  me.  Yet  I  will  not  mightily  hinder  thee  that  thou 
shalt  attain  thy  purpose  in  it,  for  Hostilis  is  also  abhorrent  unto  me. 

“But  behold!  the  levity  of  thy  heart  is  clearly  seen  by  me,  so 
that  thou  canst  not  in  any  wise  be  unto  me  as  a  priest  (after  the 
manner  of  Samson,  which  is  also  Solomon,  of  Cyrene)  nor  yet  as  a 
graven  monument  in  the  stead  of  a  priest.  But  I  will  shape  thee 
after  all,  and  will  use  thee  for  an  end.  And  when  I  have  finished 
with  thee,  I  will  break  thee  and  yet  keep  thee.” 

And  the  man  arose,  and  looked  about  and  laughed,  and  swore  that, 
even  as  he  had  begun,  so  onward  would  he  go.  “Am  I  a  man  to 
return  upon  my  purpose,  and  that  for  the  sake  of  a  dream?  And 
how  can  anyone  be  broken  and  yet  kept?” 

He  also  said,  “When  I  have  well  eaten,  I  will  mount  to  the  deck, 
and  see  if  the  night  be.” 

He  mounted,  and  saw  that  the  sun  stood  an  hour  above  the  horizon. 

And  he  looked  again  and  beheld  that  only  a  few  of  them  which 
journeyed  were  still  upon  deck.  Among  these  was  not  Samson.  But 
there  was  one  there,  which  had  a  rubicund  nose,  a  gleaming  eye,  and 
a  high  restless  manner.  Said  the  lonely  Trivialis,  “Aha!” 

He  went  therefore  to  a  mast,  lying  down  hard  by  the  side  of  it. 
And  having  so  lain  for  a  time,  with  his  eyes,  as  it  seemed  to  them 
that  passed  him,  tightly  closed  (but  all  the  time  they  were  sharply 
watching),  he  arose  again,  as  the  man  with  the  rubicund  nose  and 
restless  manner  was  about  to  pass  the  place. 

He  went  up  to  that  man  and  said  to  him,  “Just  now,  sleeping, 
I  dreamed  a  dream.”  For  he  feigned  that,  sleeping,  he  dreamed, 
that  so  he  might  the  more  easily  begin  an  acquaintance  with  this  man. 


40 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


“What  else  wouldst  thou  dream  than  a  dream,  fool?”  cried  the 
man. 

And  Trivialis,  when  the  man  did  cry  him  fool,  was  well  pleased. 
For  he  said  in  his  heart:  “The  man  is  a  good  companion,  else  had 
he  called  me  not  fool. ’  ’  Said  he  unto  the  fellow,  ‘ ‘  Thy  name  ?  ’  ’ 

“Dissolutio.” 

“A  pleasant  enough  name.  Mine  is  Trivialis.” 

“That  is  even  better,  for,  if  thou  live  up  to  thy  name,  thou  hast 
an  acquaintance,  beyond  doubt,  with  foolish  little  nothings  like  these.  ’ ’ 

He  took  from  his  traveller’s  bulga  a  number  of  dice,  laid  them  on 
the  deck.  The  twain  sat  down. 

“What  are  those?”  saith  Trivialis,  feigning  not  to  know. 

“Those,”  said  Dissolutio,  “be  bits  of  bone  called  dice.”  And 
he  proceeded  to  explain  the  manner  of  that  olden  game,  how,  for 
ensample,  one,  or,  rather,  two  (for  the  playing  solitary  is  as  tedious 
as  being  on  ship  without  company)  can  shake  the  “tesserae”  (as  he 
named  the  bones)  in  a  hat,  and  then,  upsetting  the  hat  on  the  deck, 
removeth  the  hat.  “So.  Is  it  not  very  simple?” 

“It  is  simple — perhaps  too  simple,  for  I  understand  it  not.”  He 
smiled  very  wide  like  the  fool  which  he  both  was  and  pretended 
to  be. 

“Then,”  quoth  Dissolutio,  “the  faces  that  look  to  the  deck  (and 
not  to  the  sky)  are  counted.  And  behold,  they  are  counted  in  this 
manner:  one,  three,  four,  and  six.  The  ‘one’  hath  ever  a  second 
name— the  ‘dog.’  There  be  neither  ‘two’  nor  ‘five’  at  all.  The 
lowest  throw  which  thou  canst  throw — or  any  man  whatever — is 
four  dogs.  The  highest  is  called  ‘Venus,’  not  that  that  is  the  highest 
sum  of  the  pips  which  any  man  can  throw.  By  no  means.  But  the 
numbers  that  are  thrown  of  a  Venus  are  all  of  them  different.  The 
sum  of  the  numbers  thrown  be  fourteen  only,  yet  the  throw,  0  mighty 
gods — ” 

“I  see,”  brake  in  Trivialis.  “Thou  art  an  aleator— which,  being 
interpreted,  meaneth  a  gamester.  That  is  very  wrong  of  thee,  and 
I  doubt  whether  I  ought,  being  freeman  and  no  slave,  to  accompany 
thee  in  gaming.  For  behold,  the  laws  of  Augustus  Caesar  are  much 
against  this  matter.  Throughout  his  empire  all  who  gamble  are  con¬ 
demned  to  a  payment  of  four  times  the  sum  that  was  laid  in  issue. 
Besides — ” 

“Besides  nothing.  I  am  not  aleator,  thou  stinking  goat,  but  a 
man  that  would  merely  pass  time  jauntily.  I  play  not  for  money 
but  for  pleasure  alone.  For,  mark  you,  Senator  Trivialis,  pleasure 
is  the  only  thing  of  actual  estimation  in  all  this  world  to  me.  Thou 


THE  FAILURE 


41 


seest,”  he  continued,  beginning  to  caress  the  dice  slowly  back  into 
his  dirty  bulga  again,  ‘  ‘  thou  seest  that  I  am,  as  they  say,  a  philosopher 
and  of  the  hedonic  school.  Now,  according  to  the  doctrines  of  that 
school,  there  is  one  great,  underlying  principle,  wherefrom  there 
grow,  as  a  secondary  consequence,  a  vast  number  of  minor  principles, 
or  corollaries.  Thus,  first  and  greatest  of  these  minor  principles — ” 

“Let  me  see  the  bones,”  brake  in  Trivialis.  “I  have  not  heard 
of  them  before,  and  have  much  curiosity  concerning  them.  Besides, 
I  might  be  induced  to  play  with  thee,  if  me  liked  the  looks  of  the 
cunning  little  things.  Not  for  money,  0  excellent  Dissolutio.  Not 
any  more  than  thou,  0  honestest  man,  would  I  play — and  no  doubt 
lose  to  thee  besides — who,  I  mistrust,  art  very  skilful  at  thine  own 
game.  But,  if  the  voyage  come  to  be  too  monotonous,  as  more  than 
likely  it  shall  do,  then,  perchance — I  say — it  is  possible — I  might — 
merely  as  a  matter  of  innocent  pastime  thou  understandest  and  friend¬ 
ship  for  thee — because  my  master — my  former  master — he  hath  always 
taught  me,  said  he:  ‘Ever  beware  of  gaming,  my  son,  beware  of 
gaming.  What  say  the  Sopherim?’  ” 

“Ho  hum!  I  must  find  a  gayer  companion.”  Dissolutio  started 

up. 

Thereupon  Trivialis  also  sadly  arose.  But  he  followeth  Dis¬ 
solutio — even  as  Dissolutio  had  known  that  a  man  like  him  would  do. 

Trivialis  saith  unto  Dissolutio,  “Teach  me  the  game,  and  I  will 
seek  to  amuse  thee.  But  not  for  money  will  I  play — unless  indeed 
thou  canst  give  me  money  for  a  gem  which  I  have  about  my  neck.” 

“Come,”  responded  Dissolutio,  as  he  looked  upon  the  jewel  with 
eyes  brighter  than  the  stone  itself.  “Come  into  the  shadow  of  the 
longest  sail.  And  while  the  sail  doth  strain,  and  the  hortator’s 
voice  and  dull  hammerings  arise  like  sounds  of  many  idle  hives  of 
bees,  we  shall  have  a  game,  a  very  divine  game !  ’  ’ 

....  Now,  meanwhile,  Samson-Solomon  of  Cyrene  stood  within 
the  tomb,  the  bars  whereof  he  had  broken,  and  listened  to  the  songs 
and  the  bells  of  the  caravan,  while  the  light  came  ever  brighter  and 
brighter  down  the  way. 

For  a  moment  the  sounds  ceased,  and  the  light  itself  was  turned 
to  shadow. 

But  a  twinkling  later,  there  brake  into  view,  round  the  corner 
of  a  rock,  the  leader  of  the  caravan — a  mighty,  straight-nosed,  sunny- 
headed  Greek  seated  on  a  white,  upstepping  horse. 

In  his  hand  he  held  high  a  torch,  which  lighted  the  road. 

And  now  he  started  again  to  lead  the  singing.  His  voice  was 


42 


SIMON  OF  GYRENE 


clearer  and  richer  than  the  liltings  of  many  birds,  as  he  sang  with 
a  royal  happiness — 


“Thy  living  light,  Apollo,  shines: 

I  love  thy  light,  thy  life.  ’  ’ 

And  Samson-Solomon  was  quickly  and  mysteriously  drawn  toward 
the  radiant  man  that  was  singing  and  bearing  the  high  torch.  So, 
as  the  Greek  drew  anigh,  he  ran  straight  out  of  the  tomb,  meaning 
to  place  one  hand  on  the  horse’s  neck,  and  so  to  walk  by  the  side 
of  the  light-bearer.  But  behold!  as  he  ran,  he  slipped  (in  his  great 
eagerness)  and  nearly  fell  beneath  the  horse.  Yet,  leaning  on  his 
shepherd’s  crook,  he  arose  again,  and,  passing  quickly  round  the 
horse’s  head,  did  lay  at  last  his  hand  upon  the  steed’s  neck,  saying 
unto  the  torch-bearer :  “Wilt  thou  not  give  me  succor,  0  my  friend !  ’ ’ 

“By  the  bright  rays  of  Helios,  a  Jew!”  exclaimed  the  Greek. 
“Yea,  I  will  succor  thee,  Friend;  but  how  wilt  thou  be  succored?” 

‘  ‘  Merely  by  thy  permission  to  go  beside  thee.  ’  ’  Then  he  whispered, 
“For  my  heart  is  low  and  weak.” 

“Who  art  thou?” 

“Samson  of  Cyrene.  I  am  called  also  Solomon.” 

“Thou  speakest  the  one  world-language — Greek,  yet  after  the 
fashion  of  the  Cyrenaicans.  Thou  art  a  shepherd?” 

“It  is  true.”  Samson  cast  his  crook  away  with  a  sigh. 

“Thine  age?” 

“Fourteen.” 

*  ‘  Out  of  whose  tomb  earnest  thou  ?  ’  ’ 

“My  father’s.” 

Now,  for  a  time,  the  two  kept  looking,  each  upon  the  other,  as 
they  went  the  way  of  the  desert.  And  the  Greek  beheld  a  giant 
even  more  beautiful  than  he  had  at  first  thought.  He  was  clad  in 
the  usual  apparel  of  a  shepherd — a  sheepskin  cloak  and  leathern 
pileus,  yet  he  strode  with  a  grave  and  royal  dignity.  So  tall  he  was 
that  he  reached  not  up  but  down  to  the  withers  of  the  Thracian 
steed.  Somewhat  flat  of  chest  he  seemed,  but  the  sleeve  of  his  cloak, 
drawn  back  nearly  to  the  shoulder,  let  the  Greek  behold  an  arm  likely 
to  win  the  prize  either  at  wrestling  or  at  the  throwing  of  a  discus — 
or  a  bull.  And  the  long,  supple  hand,  with  its  tapering,  ever  closing 
and  unclosing  fingers  seemed  ready  (so  thought  the  Greek)  for  a 
mallet  and  chisel.  But  what  did  mostly  please  the  soldier  in  the 
man  of  Athens  was  the  dark,  quick,  melancholy,  thoughtful  counte¬ 
nance — the  night-like  eyes  with  stars  of  glorious  passion  a-gleam  in 


THE  FAILURE 


43 


them.  “I  am  not  fain/’  thought  the  soldier,  “to  be  an  object  of 
this  man’s  fury.” 

And  Samson  of  Cyrene,  on  his  part,  saw,  astride  upon  the  horse, 
a  fair-skinned,  rosy-tinted  exquisite,  both  delicate  and  strong  and 
noble  and  proud  and  likewise  very  easy  in  his  carriage.  He  was 
dressed  in  a  traveller’s  cloak  of  finest  camel’s  hair,  but  wore  no  hat 
whatever.  The  full-arched  chest,  the  straight,  well  rounded  limbs, 
the  splendid  balance  of  the  head,  declared  the  birth  and  training  of 
an  athlete.  All  his  hair  was  bright  as  the  gold  of  any  sunset,  and 
his  eyes  (as  now  the  Jew  saw)  were  like  the  blue  of  the  sky  in  the 
springing  of  the  year.  The  thoughtful  brow  ran  down  to  the  quiver¬ 
ing  nose  in  one  unbroken  vertical  line.  The  lips  were  always  smiling, 
and  Samson-Solomon  thought  that  so  they  must  ever  appear  even  in 
the  midst  of  angry  threatenings  and  combat. 

At  length  the  Greek,  laughing  softly,  leaned  over  and  said  in  a 
hoarse  whisper:  “Where  didst  thou  kill  him?” 

“In  my  father’s  most  distant  pasture.  We  do  go  beside  the  spot 
this  moment.  How  didst  thou  know?” 

“There  is  blood  upon  thy  hand,  repentance  and  Hades  in  thine 
eyes.  Thou  hadst  thy  reasons:  fear  not.” 

“I  had  them.  But  I  am  Cain,  Cain,  Cain.” 

“Who,  prithee,  was  Cain?” 

‘  ‘  The  first  of  murderers.  ’  ’ 

“Then  by  the  muscles  of  Hercules,  thou  art  not  Cain.  Why,  I 
myself  have  killed  a  thousand.  Before  thou  sawest  the  light  of  Helios, 
I  did  surely  kill  them.” 

“Men?” 

“Men.” 

4  ‘  Thou  ?  A  thousand  men — killed  them  ?  ’  ’ 

“Assuredly.  It  is  not  so  great  a  number. — How  smoky  the  torch 
burns ! — Not  quite  that  many  have  I  killed  directly,  but  directly  and 
in  other  manners — ah  well,  let  us  say  a  thousand.  Hast  thou  hid 
the  body?” 

“No.” 

“  ’Tis  well.” 

Now  Samson  pondered  in  his  heart  the  words,  “  ’Tis  well.”  At 
length  he  said,  “Why  sayest  thou  it  is  well  that  I  hid  not  the  body?” 

“Because,  as  the  body  was  not  hidden,  then  am  I — and  I  alone — 
the  murderer.” 

“Thou!” 

“Assuredly.  I  hide  no  bodies.  I  will  send  details  unto  Caesar. 


44 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


Fear  not.  Thou  art  innocent.  I  had  good  reasons  why  I  killed  the 
man.  ’  * 

The  two  went  on  in  silence,  behind  them  all  the  caravan,  made 
up  of  many  men  of  many  nations.  Songs  came  forward  from  these 
men,  songs  in  a  Babel  of  languages. 

Said  the  Greek,  ‘‘I  must  know  what  manner  of  man  it  was  thou 
didst  kill.” 

Samson,  beholding  him  in  the  eye,  declareth:  “A  mongrel.  A 
man  compact  of  many  nations.  He  was  not  of  any  blood,  and  yet 
was  of  all  bloods — saving  and  excepting  mine  and  thine  and  the 
Roman.  He  was  neither  tall  nor  short,  but  yet,  in  the  moments  when 
I  loved  him,  he  seemed  to  be  small  to  me,  but  if  ever  he  did  anger 
me  (as  oft  he  truly  did)  then  he  looked  big  enough  to  fight — tall 
enough  for  me  to  reach  down — ” 

“By  the  terrors  of  life  itself! — but  thou  wilt  break  my  steed’s 
neck!  The  lion’s  paw!  By  Hercules —  Be  not  of  gestures  quite 
so  eloquent.” 

“His  eyes  were  gray,  or  else  a  lightish  azure,”  went  on  the  Jew. 
*  ‘  There  was  not  any  depth  at  all  in  them,  nor  very  much  melancholy, 
nor  much  intrigue  or  calculation.  They  were  easily  rendered  afraid — 
those  eyes — were  sometimes  soft  and  dreamy,  but  oftener  full  of 
light  and  causeless  laughter  and  eternal  changes  which  amounted  to 
nothing ;  and  his  mouth  was  large  and  weak  and  full  of  mockery  and 
strange  levitous  hinnying  cachinnations.  ” 

The  Greek  laughed  long  and  loud.  “I  killed  him,”  said  he.  “I 
have  killed  a  thousand  like  him,  also.  I  know  him.  He  is  every¬ 
where — a  man  like  that.  You  have  to  kill  many  such,  or  they  get 
too  numerous.” 

When  Samson-Solomon  had  had  a  little  time  in  which  to  think, 
he  said  unto  the  Greek:  “See!  I  have  trusted  thine  honor.  Trust 
thou  therefore  mine,  and  tell  me  who  thou  art.” 

“My  name  is  Lampadephorus.  I  am  a  traveller.  I  have  been 
a  soldier,  sea  captain,  sculptor  and  musician,  a  gladiator  and  a  mer¬ 
chant.  My  home  is  at  Athens.  I  am  very  much  at  Rome.  Yet  I  am 
wholly  a  Greek.  I  am  also  wholly  thy  friend.” 

“I  knew  it,”  said  the  Jew.  “Or  ever  thou  didst  behold  me — • 
wouldst  thou  believe  it? — I  would  be  as  a  friend  to  thee  also.” 

“Hast  thou  any  other?” 

“  Adonai.” 

“Who,  then,  is  Adonai?” 

‘  ‘  I  had  rather,  ’  ’  said  Samson,  after  a  time,  ‘ 1  play  unto  thee  on  my 


THE  FAILURE 


45 


harp.”  For  he  thought,  “This  man,  being  not  a  son  of  Abraham, 
cannot  in  anywise  comprehend  Adonai.” 

So  he  took  from  his  bosom  the  harp  which  he  himself  had  made, 
and,  touching  the  shorter  of  the  strings,  sang  of  the  great  pastures 
and  the  melancholy  cries  of  innumerable  sheep,  and  of  all  the  long¬ 
ings  that  come  into  the  soul  of  a  lonely  shepherd.  And  Samson  of 
Cyrene  saw  that  the  eyes  of  Lampadephorus  were  wet.  So  he  re¬ 
lented  a  little  and  thought,  “I  will  at  least  sing  (if  not  speak) 
unto  thee  about  Adonai.”  And  he  sang  full  many  a  psalm,  ending 
each  with  the  joyful  cry:  “Adonai,  Adonai,  Adonai!” 

He  handed,  then,  the  harp  unto  Lampadephorus  without  a  word. 

The  Greek  was  touched  that  the  boy  had  discovered  without  ques¬ 
tioning  that  he,  even  Lampadephorus  of  Athens,  should  know  the 
art  of  touching  music  from  a  lyre.  When  the  man  could  speak,  he 
sang,  and  all  the  singing  of  the  caravan  ceased,  and  even  the  foot¬ 
falls  of  the  horses  appeared  to  become  more  nearly  silent,  that  the 
music  might  ascend,  as  it  were  unimpeded,  into  heaven. 

Then  were  the  eyes  of  Samson-Solomon  wet  in  their  turn.  He 
said,  “I  knew  not,  truly,  that  such  sweet  sounds  could  be.” 

And  Lampadephorus  of  Athens  did  teach  the  Jew  full  many 
things  about  the  harp,  as,  to  wit,  the  making  thereof  and  the  proper 
tuning  of  the  strings,  and  eke  the  pleasantest  chords  and  happiest 
sequences.  He  came  to  the  scales.  “What,”  said  he,  even  as  Plato 
had  said  before  him,  “are  the  scales  of  mourning?  The  Myxolydian 
and  High  Lydian,  and  some  others  of  the  same  character.  Which, 
then,  of  the  scales  are  soft  and  convivial?  The  Ionian  and  Lydian — 
such  as  are  called  ‘slack.’  ”  And  he  spake  still  further  unto  him 
of  certain  other  scales,  such  as  the  vehement  Phrygian  (fond  of 
trumpets  and  other  military  instruments)  and  the  Ilypophrygian, 
the  Dorian  (grave  and  severe)  and  the  Hypodorian,  likewise  the 
Hypolydian  (good  for  funerals)  and  some  others,  and  the  way  that 
each  did  play  upon  the  feelings  of  the  hearers — but  each  of  the 
modes,  in  its  own  sweet  way  (he  said)  was  golden. 

He  taught  the  Jew,  further,  that  the  sweetest  thing  that  ever 
yet  was  known  concerning  any  melody  (be  it  in  Phrygian  or  Aeolian, 
or  what  not  that  is  beautiful)  is  the  blessed  referring  of  each  and 
every  note  unto  its  central  master  tone — the  mesec,  or  tonic. 

Then  said  Samson-Solomon,  ‘  ‘  That  note  is  indeed  like  unto  Adonai, 
the  Lord  God  of  all  the  Universe,  to  whom  the  universe  of  things 
refers  itself  in  a  sweet  subjection,  in  whom  indeed  they  may  solely 
be  said  to  have  their  cause  of  being.  When  a  soul  doth  not  refer 
itself  unto  Adonai,  and  agree  therewith,  that  is  sin.  Yes,  it  is  sin.” 


46 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


The  Greek  said  unto  him,  “What  is  sin?  Be  thou  clear.  And 
who  (as  I  have  already  asked  thee)  is  this  Adonai?” 

Then  remembered  Samson  that,  in  his  dream,  he  was  to  be  a 
monument  unto  the  world,  and  he  said:  “Very  well.  I  will  tell 
thee  of  Adonai  and  of  sin.  But  first  I  would  have  thee  tell  me  more 
precisely  as  to  who  thou  art,  for  thou  hast  told  me  not  much.” 

And  at  this  there  came  from  the  backward  portions  of  the  caravan 
a  number  of  noisy  men,  who  passed  the  Greek  and  the  Jew,  singing, 
for  the  most  part,  of  a  certain  king  that  had  fallen  because  of  his 
very  strength.  And  some  of  the  riders,  who  had  just  taken  torches 
up,  lighted  their  lights  at  the  Greek’s,  and  went  on  far  ahead  into 
the  sad,  mysterious  reaches  of  the  infinite-seeming  desert,  still  singing. 
And  some  of  the  roysterers  laughed  at  the  song,  while  others  (but  not 
many)  were  high  sorrowful. 

Then  the  Greek  frowned  for  a  moment,  thinking  of  the  words  of 
Samson.  But  he  again  smiled,  and  said :  “  It  is  well  enough :  I  will 
tell  thee.  I  am  not  wholly  Greek — though  many  do  not  know  that. 
I  have  both  Babylonian  and  Egyptian  blood  within  me.  A  certain 
Cecrops  was  mine  ancestor.  He,  an  Egyptian,  yet  with  a  Babylonian 
father,  came  into  Hellas  many  aeons  since,  founding  there  Cecropia, 
which  was  afterwards  made  the  citadel  of  Athens.  Also  the  Phrygian 
Pelops  is  one  of  mine  ancestors :  progenitor  he  both  of  Agamemnon 
and  of  Menelaus.  He  settled  in  the  South,  and  after  him  was  named 
the  Peloponnesus,  isle  of  Pelops.  My  mother  was  a  Doris — not  much 
poetry  or  music  about  her,  but  a  woman  very  practical.  Ah,  she 
could  manage !  My  father  was  Ionicus,  a  many-sided  and  imaginative 
man.  How  well  I  remember  him — beautiful  as  the  morning:  a  poet, 
a  philosopher,  a  musician.  Some  people  say  that  I  sing  a  little  like 
him.  I  am,  at  all  events,  a  mixture  of  my  mother  and  my  father. 
The  two  do  struggle  in  me,  the  poet  and  the  merchant-manager. 
For  the  rest:  I  have  stood  upon  the  sand  before  great  Caesar.  I 
have  struggled  with  all  the  world  but  Caesar.  ’  * 

“And  why,”  said  Solomon,  “hast  thou  not  struggled  with  Caesar 
also  ?  ’  ’ 

At  this  the  Greek  was  silent  for  a  time.  Then  said  he,  “Because 
it  is  useless  and  unbeautiful  to  struggle  against  the  Lord  of  All 
This  World.  Let  us  adjust  ourselves  to  indomitable  powers,  making 
sweet  harmonies  with  them.  There  was  once  a  teacher,  named  Pe- 
Lesetau — ” 

“Pe-Lesetau !” 

“Pe-Lesetau.  Knowest  thou  him?” 

“I  knew  him  whenas  I  was  a  captive  in  the  Great  Oasis  of  the 


THE  FAILURE 


47 


South.  Little  I  learned  from  that  man,  for,  in  his  time,  I  was,  in 
his  country  (as  I  have  already  said  to  thee)  a  poor  captive,  alone. 
He  is  very  aged,  Pe-Lesetau.” 

“Very  aged,  and  also  (for  any  but  little  children)  very  useless 

as  a  teacher.  So  he  was,  even  in  his  prime.  Rightly  is  he  named 

Pe-Lesetau — The-Gate-of-the-Passage.  He  is  only  for  beginners:  his 
knowledge,  though  exact,  is  small  in  quantity/’ 

“But  thine,”  said  Samson  of  Cyrene,  “is  very  great.  Even  as 
was  Pe-Lesetau,  so  art  thou  named  truly,  for  thou  art  ‘The  Bearer 
of  the  Light.’  ” 

The  Athenian  looked  the  Jew  in  his  dark,  earnest  eyes  with  much 
steadfastness,  and  seeing  there  but  love  and  reverence,  he  said :  “  I 
am  greatly  beholden  unto  thee,  0  Jew.  But  more  I  should  be  thy 

debtor  wouldst  thou  explain  unto  me  now  what  sin  is,  also  who  is 

Adonai.” 

Then  said  Samson,  “I  will  do  this  thing,  for  I  had  a  dream  last 
night — believest  thou  in  dreams?” 

“Yea.  There  are  some  dreams  that  are  wholly  supernatural,  if 
others  that  are  naught.  Yet  in  any  dream  at  all  the  feelings  and 
the  thoughts  of  the  present  hours  are  ofttimes  suppressed.  Then 
riddle-like  shadows,  the  deep  symbols  of  the  future,  go  stealing 
through  the  chambers  of  the  soul,  preparing,  warning,  comforting,  or 
as  it  sometimes  happeneth,  merely  deceiving.  Dreams  are  much  like 
other  folk,  so,  though  they  sometimes  lie,  they  oftener  tell  truth.” 

“But  Adonai  lieth  not,”  said  the  Jew.  “Oh  Adonai,  Adonai, 
Adonai!  Thou  spakest  to  me  last  night  as  I  lay  in  my  father’s 
tomb.  Thou  saidest,  ‘Be  not  wholly  downcast,  Solomon.  Thou  shalt 
serve  me  as  a  lofty  statue,  for  I  know  thy  toughness  and  thy  strength. 
And  behold  I  will  chisel  thee  twice,  the  first  time  roughly  and  the 
second  exceeding  fine.  And  when  I  have  no  further  need  of  thee,  I 
will  break  thee — and  yet  keep  thee.’  ” 

“Said  that  some  god?” 

“It  was  the  only  God — Adonai.” 

Now  the  Greek  looked  up,  raising  his  beautiful  eyebrows. 

“I  love  Adonai,”  said  the  Jew. 

“Thou  lovest  him — a  god!” 

“I  love  Him,”  said  the  Jew. 

Now,  at  this,  there  came  up  furiously  from  the  rear  of  the  caravan 
a  Roman  soldier  on  a  foaming  red  horse.  And  he  cried,  “Lampa- 
dephorus!  Lord!”  reining  his  steed  so  suddenly  that  the  beast  was 
nigh  unto  sitting  backward  in  the  sand. 

Then  gave  the  soldier  unto  Lampadephorus  a  little  scroll.  The 


S’ 


48 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


which,  when  the  Greek  had  broken  the  seal,  he  read  with  feverish 
haste.  Said  he  unto  the  soldier,  “Tell  thy  Master  there  is  not  now 
any  word  for  him. — What  is  new  at  Apollonia  ?  ’  ’ 

“Naught,  I  believe,  0  Lampadephorus, ’ ’  said  the  soldier,  “except 
that  the  Sirius  from  Sardinia  hath  arrived  in  port,  while  the  Poseidon 
cleared  for  Lindus  and  other  harbors  in  Rhodes,  and  the  old  Megas- 
thenes  for  Alexandria.  On  the  latter  was  a  man  with  a  gaping 
wound  in  his  temple,  for  one  in  a  pasture  near  Cyrene  had  thought 
to  murder  him.” 

“The  wounded  man’s  name?” 

“I  know  not.  But  the  giver  of  the  blow  was  called — was  called — ” 

Now  the  heart  of  Samson  rose  into  his  mouth. 

“His  name  was  called,”  replied  the  soldier,  “Oh!  Samson- 
Solomon,  of  Cyrene.” 

‘  ‘  Thou  liest,  ’  ’  cried  the  Greek.  ‘  i  I  gave  that  blow.  And  so  shall 
I  do  to  thee  also,  so  be  thou  dost  report  it  otherwise.  Tell  it  to 
thy  captain. ’ ’  Then,  in  a  milder  tone :  “I  pray  thee,  in  this  matter 
haste.” 

The  horseman  sped  back  into  the  darkness,  while  Lampadephorus 
re-read  his  tiny  scroll,  and  yet  again  re-read  it,  and  was  very  grave 
and  strait  of  countenance. 

But  the  heart  of  the  Jew  was  filled  with  a  glorious  thanksgiving 
unto  Adonai,  because  the  blow  which  he  had  stricken  on  the  temple 
of  Trivialis  had  not  been  mortal.  He  cried  out  in  his  soul,  after 
David : 


“Hallelujah! 

Praise  God  in  His  sanctuary, 

Praise  Him  in  the  firmament  of  His  strength, 

Praise  Him  with  psaltery  and  harp, 

Praise  Him  with  timbrel  and  dance, 

Praise  Him  with  clear-sounding  cymbals, 

Praise  Him  with  deep-toned  cymbals. 

Hallelujah.” 

Then  said  he  unto  Lampadephorus,  “I  am  going  home.” 

“Thou?” 

“Yea.” 

“And  when?” 

“Now — this  moment.”  He  did  address  himself  as  though  he 
would  return  to  Cyrene. 

“The  lions  and  the  leopards!  Thy  bones!  The  vultures!” 

“No  matter,  I  must  be  about  my  father’s  business.  There  are 
many  sheep.” 


THE  FAILURE 


49 


Then  took  Lampadephorus  the  hand  of  the  boy  within  his  own, 
and  he  said:  “Trivialis  is  not  dead,  as  thou  didst  hear.  Wilt  thou 
suffer  that  he  shall  escape  thee  wholly  ?  For  see !  He  hath  gone 
unto  Alexandria.  And  there  he  will  be  safe  if  thou  follow  him  not. 
But  go  thou  with  me  unto  Crocodilopolis  (for  thither  I  do  go)  and 
later  thou  mayest  on  to  Alexandria,  there  to  take  thee  thy  revenge.” 

But  Samson  said  unto  him,  “ I  must  return.  Yet  will  I  go  a  little 
distance  further  upon  thy  way  with  thee,  for  I  am  loath  to  separate 
from  thee.  And  all  the  more  for  this,  that  thou  art  very  sad  since 
the  soldier  that  was  on  the  horse  did  give  thee  a  little  scroll  and 
thou  didst  read  it.  Nay,  shake  not  thy  head.  I  read  thee  as  easily 
as  thou  didst  read  the  scroll.” 

Said  then  Lampadephorus,  “Fear  nothing.  I  am  a  servant  of 
Caesar,  and  all  that  do  serve  the  Prince  of  the  World  must  be  at 
times  sad.  And  if,  on  a  day,  I  perish —  See!  my  life  it  hath  been 
very  beautiful,  and  I  have  greatly  rejoiced  in  it.” 

And  Samson  of  Cyrene  did  love  the  man  even  more  than  ever, 
for  that  he  saw  him  in  a  trouble.  He  said  to  him,  '“I  hate  Caesar 
for  thy  sake.  ’  ’ 

He  went  round  unto  the  left  of  Lampadephorus,  declaring:  “I 
will  walk  beside  thee  on  the  left  side  only,  for  that  is  the  side  where 
thy  heart  is.  And  there  will  I  walk  beside  thee  all  the  way  that 
I  will  walk  with  thee.  Even  as  Abraham,  my  people’s  ancestor,  was 
a  friend  unto  Abimelech,  and  Naomi  unto  Ruth,  and  the  High  Priest 
at  Jerusalem  unto  Alexander,  so  will  I  be  a  friend  to  thee.” 

The  Greek  was  touched  in  his  heart  by  the  boy’s  devotion.  He 
smiled  up  at  him,  saying:  “Let  us  be  friends,  truly,  and  rejoice. 
For  behold,  the  Greek  and  the  Jew  they  are  sojourners  everywhere 
among  foreigners  (which  be  foes  unto  them)  for  evermore.” 

....  But  Trivialis  and  his  red-nose  friend,  Dissolutio,  they  twain 
sat  in  the  shadow  of  a  great  sail,  shaking  dice  and  counting  one 
another’s  money. 

And  Dissolutio  looked  in  the  way  in  which  they  were  going,  and 
saith  then  unto  his  haggard  companion:  “Behold!  Yonder  is 
Rhodes.  We  shall  soon  drive  into  the  harbor.”  And  he  sent  for  yet 
more  wine,  saying:  “Or  ere  we  part,  0  noble  companion,  I  would 
drink  thy  name” — which  is  the  same  as  to  say  “drink  as  many  cups 
as  thy  name  containeth  letters.” 

Trivialis  saith  unto  him,  “It  is  well  enough.  For  who  is  there 
that  is  like  unto  us  for  profitable  entertainment,  inasmuch  as,  gaming 
the  several  weeks  away,  we  have  quit,  each,  with  even  as  many 
drachmae  as  he  started  withal,  neither  one  farthing  less  nor  yet  one 

4 


50 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


farthing  more? — But  thou  hast  indeed  the  stone  which  I  received 
from  my  master,  Shem.  ” 

And  when  he,  in  company  with  Dissolutio,  had  drunken  as  many 
cups  as  there  were  letters  in  his  name,  then  said  he:  “Now  we  will 
drink  thine  own  name  also,  0  most  excellent  Dissolutio,  for  that  is 
but  fair  and  well-balanced.  ’  ’ 

And  when  both  of  the  names  had  thus  been  thoroughly  drunken, 
they  twain  fell  upon  each  other’s  necks  and  vowed  eternal  fidelity, 
and  promised  to  remember  each  the  other,  though  the  wide  seas  them 
parted. 

But,  being  got  upon  the  quay,  they  fell  on  each  other’s  necks 
again,  and  again  vowed  friendship,  and  again  and  yet  again,  till 
at  length  the  one  said  unto  the  other:  “Why,  when  we  be  such 
friends,  should  we  part  at  all?  Let  us  go  our  ways  together,  and 
make  them  twain  but  one.” 

So  they  agreed  they  would  do  this. 

And  they  went  and  took  up  their  inn  at  a  place  of  mere  rioting, 
which  pretended  to  be  a  caupona.  Here  they  slept  for  an  hour,  the 
twain  in  one  cubiculum. 

Then  went  they  back  to  the  common  room,  where  a  great  crowd 
was  that  much  desired  to  play  with  any  comers. 

And  here,  when  he  had  drunk  his  fill,  it  came  into  the  mind  of 
Trivialis  (and  was  probably  put  there  by  Satan)  that  he  ought  in 
all  conscience  to  spread  in  this  crowd  a  little  of  the  knowledge  of 
the  one  and  only  God,  even  Elohim,  for  that  he,  Trivialis,  had  had 
a  certain  advantage  in  matters  of  religion  from  his  long  acquaintance 
with  Shem  and  with  Samson-Solomon  and  also  with  the  Chazzan, 
and  even  Amahnah,  which  is  also  Berith  and  Machashebethel. 

And  he  called  out,  very  maudlin,  so  that  all  arose  that  they  should 
find  out  the  matter.  “Hearken,”  he  cried.  “And  hearken,  and 
hearken  yet  once  again,  0  ye  peoples  of  every  nation,  for  I  that 
was  servant  unto  Ignorantia,  but  am  now  a  free  man,  I  do  declare 
to  you  that  which  ye  all  should  know,  as  namely,  the  knowledge  of 
the  one  God,  even  Jehovah.” 

Some  laughed,  saying:  “Whereof  doth  he  speak?”  Others  also 
laughed,  but  yet  understood.  *  ‘  He  hath  learned  religion  of  a  certain 
Shem,  also  of  his  son,  a  wisely-foolish  Solomon,  and  now  he  would 
instruct  us,  his  betters,  believing  us  ‘lost,’  as  he  calleth  it,  because 
of  ‘sin.’  ”  And  there  were  those  who  said  unto  him  (that  they 
might  make  jests)  “What  think  ye  of  idolatry?” 

He  began  to  say  to  them  that  which,  truly,  he  did  believe  con¬ 
cerning  idolatry,  how  that,  for  an  ensample,  it  enslaveth  and  de- 


THE  FAILURE 


51 


gradeth  all  which  follow  it,  and  sinketh  them  deeper  and  yet  more 
deep  in  sin. 

At  this  they  all,  with  one  accord,  laid  hold  of  their  drunken  sides 
and  laughed  with  great  enjoyment,  and  yet  with  great  scorn  too. 

Trivialis,  when  he  saw  this  thing,  pretendeth  he  had  spoken  only 
in  jest.  “Ye  do  take  me  seriously,”  he  said.  “Ye  should  not  do 
so,  for  I  but  jested.” 

Thereupon  they  laughed  the  more,  and  arose  and  buffeted  him 
sorely,  crying:  “Into  the  corner,  and  remain.  For  thou  art  neither 
boon  companion  nor  yet  true  preacher.” 

After  a  time  one  that  was  in  the  crowd,  but  yet  was  not  of  it, 
being  sober  and  of  most  excellent  judgment,  did  wend  his  way  around 
and  about  among  the  drunken  companions,  and  lay  hands  heavily 
on  Trivialis. 

“Come  thou  with  me,”  he  commanded. 

They  twain  went  therefore  outside  the  caupona. 

And  when  they  had  got  outside  the  circle  which  the  torch  cast 
of  light  as  it  stood  aslant  over  the  doorway,  then  said  the  sober  one 
to  Trivialis:  “My  name  is  Agonus,  which,  interpreted,  meaneth 
‘  Remorse. ’  For  this,  that  I  do  love  thee  well,  I  prohibit  that  thou 
shouldst  return  unto  Dissolutio  and  his  brawling  companions.  Get 
thee  away!  Come!” 

Then  Trivialis,  growing  into  a  hot  rage:  “Thou  sayest  thou 
art  called,  plainly,  Agonus,  which,  being  interpreted,  meaneth  Re¬ 
morse.  Well  then,  my  name,  as  I  would  have  thee  plainly  understand, 
is  Adespotus,  which,  interpreted,  meaneth  ‘He  that  Hath  No  Master.’ 
And,  as  my  name,  so  am  I.  Away  then,  and  get  thee  far  from  me. 
Else  shall  I  kill  thee.” 

But  Remorse  drewT  a  great  two-handed  sword,  and  cried  unto  him : 
‘  ‘  Ere  thou  shalt  kill  me,  I  will  even  kill  thee.  ’  ’ 

And,  at  this,  Trivialis,  for  the  half  of  a  twinkling,  was  a  mind 
to  try  conclusions  with  his  adversary.  But,  looking  the  great  antag¬ 
onist  over,  he  said  in  his  heart:  “Nay,  he  is  much  too  big  for  me.” 
So,  outwardly,  he  said:  “Let  me  only  return  to  Dissolutio  and  get 
back  the  gem  which  my  master  gave  me,  but  which  Dissolutio  hath 
defrauded  me  out  of.  I  will  rattle  the  dice  with  him  till  I  have  got 
me  the  gem  back.” 

Said  Agonus,  ‘  ‘  I  will  not  suffer  thee  to  go  back,  for,  if  thou  goest 
back,  then  art  thou  thyself  surely  lost.  And  the  stone  which  thou 
hast  said  was  a  symbol  of  youth  and  of  promise  and  of  opportunity, 
it  is  gone  forever,  that  I  do  know.  Draw,  therefore,  0  foolish  man, 
and  let  us  have  this  battle  out.  ’  ’ 


52 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


Now  Agonus  loomed  so  lusty,  and  his  sword  so  long,  so  keen,  and 
so  glittering  bright,  that  Trivialis  turned,  and,  gathering  his  feet 
together,  fled,  like  the  coward  he  was,  quickly  away — and  Remorse 
close  after  him. 

He  fled  for  many  hours,  both  in  the  city  and  in  the  country.  For 
neither  would  he  come  to  a  fight  direct  with  Remorse,  nor  yet,  upon 
the  other  hand,  did  he  dare  go  back  to  his  sometime  friend,  Dissolutio 
— though  much  he  wished  he  might  do  this. 

When  the  sun  arose,  then  did  Remorse  cease  following  after 
Trivialis.  And  Trivialis  did  discover  himself  in  the  agora,  which 
is  to  say  the  market  place,  of  the  great  city. 

And  he  busied  himself  with  many  things  in  the  noisy  and  varie¬ 
gated  market  place,  seeking  forgetfulness,  yet  all  the  while  yearning 
as  before  for  his  sometime  friend  and  reveller,  even  Dissolutio. 


CHAPTER  IV 
Light  Divine 

So  Samson-Solomon  of  Cyrene  and  Lampadephorus  the  Athenian 
sware  eternal  friendship  and  fidelity.  Even  as  they  marched  across 
the  lonely  sands  of  Time,  in  the  darkness  of  the  worldly  night,  then 
sware  they  eternal  friendship  each  unto  each.  And  Samson-Solomon 
at  length  said,  “I  will  go  with  thee,  Lampadephorus,  even  as  far 
as  Crocodilopolis,  that  wonderful  city  of  which  I  have  heard.’ ’ 

Now  there  came  for  the  Jew,  long  afterward,  a  day  when  all  these 
things  were  a  part  of  a  hated  and  irreparable  past — a  time  of  wildest 
wishes  and  vainest  and  most  forlorn  regrets,  of  bitter  tears,  of  terrible 
repentance.  And  of  a  sudden  the  boy  even  now  beheld,  as  often  he 
had  known  himself  to  do  before — for  prophecy  was  of  his  nature — 
a  futurizing  vision,  wherein  there  flowed  between  him  and  his  friend 
a  river  of  blood.  And  the  Greek  (that  that  was  in  the  vision)  cried: 
“Thou  hast  shed,  0  friend,  my  blood.”  And  the  boy  saw  yet  again 
a  vision,  and  behold!  once  more  a  river  as  it  were  of  blood.  And 
the  friend,  which  was  the  Greek,  again  cried  out,  saying:  “This 
time  thou  hast  instead  preserved  my  blood.”  And  yet  a  third  time 
did  the  Jew  behold  a  vision.  And  again  the  Greek  cried  out  across 
the  crimson  current,  1 1  This  blood,  it  is  owing  to  Caesar.  I  am  wholly 
Caesar ’s.  Try  not.  Thou  canst  not  in  any  wise  succor  me.” 

And  behold,  the  Greek  was  in  fact  saying  unto  him :  “I  am 
wholly  Caesar’s.” 


THE  FAILURE 


53 


Then  said  Samson,  “I — am  wholly  Adonai ’s.  Yet  I  love  also 
thee.” 

The  Greek  said,  ‘  ‘  Thou  didst  say  aforetime  thou  didst  love  Adonai, 
the  one  and  only  God.” 

Said  the  Jew,  ‘  ‘  And  I  promised  thee  I  would  tell  thee  of  Him. 
As  I  said,  so  I  will  do,  for  I  am  to  be  a  monument  unto  the  Almighty. ’  ’ 

Once  again  the  Jew  could  hear,  from  far  ahead  in  the  starlit 
desert,  the  words  of  the  song  of  the  men  of  many  nations — 

“  There  was  once  a  glorious  king 
Who  fell  by  reason  of  his  strength.” 

And  once  again  the  soul  of  the  Jew  was  filled  with  unutterable 
sadness,  and  he  remembered  the  allegories  which  he  had  used  to 
make,  or  else  to  recall,  in  the  sheepfields,  as  the  caravans  went  by. 
And  now,  more  than  ever,  it  seemed  to  him  that  the  night  and  the 
angling  caravan  and  the  hills  and  precipices  which  passed  them  by 
in  the  darkness,  were  all  like  the  journey  which  a  soul  doth  make  from 
its  cradle  to  the  grave,  both  in  mystery  and  in  darkness,  and  also 
beset  by  harrowing  dangers. 

And  Samson  drew  up  closer  to  the  Greek,  that  he  might  not  step 
off  into  the  dangerous  places.  And  these  were  the  words  of  Solomon, 
or  Samson,  of  Cyrene,  son  of  Shem  ben-Noah  ben-Adam,  as  he  spake 
unto  Lampaclephorus,  the  sunny  headed  Greek:  “ Adonai!  When 
I  do  think  of  Adonai,  I  am  like  to  faint.  And  truly  His  splendors 
are  ever  within  me  like  to  a  veritable  Sheckinah.  Even  when  I  struck 
my  father’s  steward,  I  was  thinking  of  Adonai.  For  Him  it  was  I 
struck,  with  howsoever  much  of  unwisdom. 

“Seest  thou  these  stars?  Adonai  made  them.  They  are  not  gods, 
as  the  heathen  ofttimes  declare :  they  are  merely  creatures  of  Adonai. 
These  sands  we  travel  on,  they  are  creatures  of  Adonai.  And  the 
caravan  itself — thou,  I,  every  human  being — we  were  shapen  by  His 
hands.  Space  and  time,  too,  as  I  have  heard  the  rabbis  tell,  they 
were  made  by  Adonai.  The  first  was  spread  out  by  His  fingers, 
and  then  He  set  His  other  creatures  into  it,  and  all  alike  were  started 
on  that  strange  and  inexplicable  journey  which  we  call  time.  It  be- 
ginneth,  for  each  and  every  person,  at  the  cradle,  it  endeth,  for  each 
and  every  person,  at  the  tomb.” 

“Aristotle,”  said  the  Greek,  “hath  declared  that  time  is  un¬ 
limited,  both  time  and  space,  also  the  atoms  and  the  moments  that 
do  fill  them  up.  The  world  hath  existed  always,  saith  that  great  phi¬ 
losopher,  and  always  will  continue  to  be.  ’ ’ 

“That  is  a  mistake,”  said  the  Jew,  with  positiveness.  “In  the 


54 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


beginning  was  God.  Before  Him  and  beside  Him  there  was  nothing. 
He  spake,  and  things  were.” 

Then  told  the  Jew  of  the  making  of  Adam,  thenafter  Eve.  Then 
of  the  Serpent,  which  is  Satan,  the  vile  one  who  wished  to  be  God’s 
rival.  “Now  knowest  thou  what  sin  is.  It  is  when  we  do  the  things 
that  please  God’s  adversary,  not  God.” 

“And  then  you  buy  your  peace.” 

“How  buy  peace  with  Adonai?” 

“A  cake,  a  libation  poured  on  the  ground,  a  sheep  slaughtered, 
at  the  most  a  hecatomb.  ’  ’ 

“These  things  are  only  symbols,”  said  the  Jew.  “A  humble  and 
repentant  heart  alone  will  reconcile  us  with  Adonai.  But  the  symbols 
are  useful,  for  they  make  us  understand  and  remember.” 

“By  the  white  flesh  of  Aphrodite!”  cried  Lampadephorus.  “Thou 
hast  a  peculiar  religion.  We  Greeks  and  Romans  reconcile  ourselves 
with  Venus  (for  one  ensample)  by  staying  for  a  time  with  her  prosti¬ 
tutes.  Hast  thou  heard  of  Petra?” 

“Yea,  they  do  slaughter  and  bury  an  innocent  child  there,  to 
propitiate  Dusares.  Who  would  have  so  foul  a  god?  But  my  God 
is  pure.  He  is  truly  El-Shaddai,  and  He  needeth  not  to  be  impure — 
nor  would  be.  But  all  these  other  gods  are  merely  angels  of  the  Devil, 
him  that  brought  sin  into  the  world.” 

“Thy  proof?” 

“Ye  do  propitiate  such  gods  for  sin  with  further  sin.  How  know 
any  man,  or  god  or  devil,  save  by  the  works  which  he  doeth  ?  ’  ’ 

“My  gods  are  very  beautiful,”  said  Lampadephorus.  “Enough. 
One  religion  is  just  as  good  as  another,  if  only  it  be  beautiful.  As 
for  repentance —  Now  the  religion  of  the  Romans  is  by  no  means 
beautiful.  Those  people  care  about  the  gods  merely  for  what  can 
be  got  out  of  them.  To  the  Greeks,  the  Olympians  are  first  and 
foremost  for  a  worship ;  to  the  Romans,  for  divination,  augury,  the 
furtherance  of  their  own  plans  and  ambitions.  The  Egyptians  see 
the  immortals  in  the  shapes  of  repellant  beasts;  we  Greeks,  however, 
in  the  matchless  forms  of  men  and  women.” 

“And  Jews?” 

“Ye  Jews  behold  them  not  at  all.  Ye  have  but  one  God,  and 
He  hath  the  shape  of  water,  which  is  nothing.  Ye  do  worship  nothing, 
for  form  is  everything.” 

“But  Messiah  will  come.  He  will  come  in  a  shape  that  all  the 
world,  rejoicing — ” 

But  by  now  the  caravan  had  stopped  within  an  excellent  space, 


THE  FAILURE 


55 


and  a  fire  was  started  with  the  dry  dung  of  horses,  for  night  in  the 
desert  is  chill. 

And  when  all  had  been  refreshed,  but  were  yet  awhile  resting 
before  they  went  again  upon  their  way,  Samson-Solomon  of  Cyrenaica 
did  speak  his  heart  out  freely  to  the  Greek  again.  And  he  saw  from 
time  to  time  that  the  men  of  many  nations  were  listening;  yet  he 
thought,  “ Shall  I  be  like  Jonah?”  and  failed  not  further  to  speak 
to  them,  relating  the  story  both  of  Abraham  and  of  Isaac  and  of 
Jacob  and  Joseph  and  his  brethren,  and  of  the  stay  in  idolatrous 
Egypt,  the  exodus  from  thence  beneath  the  guiding  hand  of  great 
Moses,  the  entrance  (after  many  wanderings)  into  the  Promised  Land, 
the  Judges,  the  Kingdom,  the  continued  idolatries,  and,  at  last,  the 
subjugation  and  the  carrying  away  into  Captivity — since  which  fear¬ 
ful  experience  (that  had  been  unto  them  like  a  schoolmaster)  his 
people  had  been  devoid  of  all  idolatries. 

Then  he  spake  about  the  Messiah,  and  of  what  His  long-expected 
coming  would  mean  for  the  whole  world — especially  the  lowly  and 
humble  of  heart. 

“Speakest  thou  against  Cassar?”  cried  some  that  stood  nigh,  and 
began  to  threaten  him. 

He  only  said,  “I  speak  truth.  Is  it  against  Caesar?”  For  a 
time,  they  were  silenced. 

But  when,  afterwards,  the  Greek  spake,  he  said  nothing  concern¬ 
ing  Caesar,  and  only  that  the  teachings  of  the  Jew  were,  as  to  his 
own  mind,  not  logical  enough,  and  not  sufficiently  filled  with  matters 
of  this  world  and  of  gaiety  and  physical  joy.  Especially  he  could 
not  understand  “sin.”  But  some  that  had  stood  by,  listening  (among 
them  a  very  humble  one,  Sincerus)  carried  away  in  their  hearts  both 
the  fear  of  sin  and  the  knowledge  and  love  of  the  Lord.  As  for 
Sincerus,  he,  on  a  later  day,  became  a  proselyte  unto  righteousness. 
And  going  into  many  places,  he  taught  that  salvation  is  of  the  Jews, 
and  brought  many  others  also  unto  God,  until  at  length,  Jehovah, 
who  long  had  loved  him  and  supported  him  in  fleshly  tribulations, 
reached  forth  and  took  him  home. 

But  (at  the  present  hour)  others  waxed  wroth,  some  made  the 
ciconia  at  the  preacher,  and  all  did  take  to  their  horses,  and  the 
caravan  went  on,  Jew  beside  Greek,  till  the  red  morning  arose  with 
its  glare  and  intolerable  ardor,  and  the  caravan  halted,  and  the 
servants  set  up  the  smaller  and  the  larger  tents,  and  some  of  the 
travellers  refreshed  themselves  once  more,  but  all  (excepting  the 
watchers  of  the  camp)  did  lay  themselves  down  into  slumbers. 

And  Samson  slept  in  the  tent  of  Lampadephorus,  though,  as  he 


56 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


laughed,  he  said:  “It  were  better  that  Japhet  slept  in  the  tents 
of  Shem.”  When  he  had  explained  to  Lampadephorus,  the  latter 
fell  silent. 


CHAPTER  V 

The  Struggles  of  the  Priest 

The  weeks  had  gone  by  like  a  weaver’s  shuttle,  for,  from  desert 
stop  to  desert  stop,  the  Greek  Lampadephorus  (he  with  the  Oriental 
tincture  in  his  veins)  had  been  as  a  brilliant  schoolmaster  unto  the 
Jew.  Even  as  Pharaoh  had  instructed  Moses,  and  the  great  Nebuc- 
chadnezzar  in  Babylon  had  taught  the  Jewish  captives,  and  the  wiser 
and  greater  Alexander  had  taught  them  in  the  Greek-Egyptian  city 
of  Alexandria,  and,  after  that  mightiest  teacher,  then  also  Ptolemy 
Philadelphus  and  Ptolemy  Soter — all  by  direction  or  by  indirection, 
with  the  learning  of  old  priests  and  of  Aristotle  and  of  Plato,  and 
of  Euclid  and  eke  of  many  others  like  unto  them — bearers  of  the 
light.  Little  could  Samson-Solomon  do  with  Lampadephorus ’s  in¬ 
structions  about  sculpture,  architecture,  or  painting,  and  when  one 
day,  at  an  oasis,  he  was  handed  by  Lampadephorus  a  wooden  carving 
of  Apollo  (whereon  the  Greek  had  labored  but  a  golden  hour)  and 
was  asked  by  his  master  to  make  the  like  upon  another  piece,  behold 
his  Jewish  fingers  failed  him  utterly.  Nor,  as  the  friends  stood 
before  the  glorious  paintings  in  an  oasian  temple,  could  the  Jewish 
eye  discern  of  color  to  the  full  satisfaction  of  the  artist.  Moreover, 
the  Jew  was  afeard  of  idol  images.  But,  when  the  sunny-headed 
Greek  made  wonderful  songs,  or  delicately  discoursed  on  cooing  flute 
or  twangling  lyre,  then  the  pupil  did  wholly  surpass  his  shining 
master — who  thereupon  would  tell  the  scholar  as  much.  Also,  in  the 
matter  of  philosophy  the  boy  went  farther  than  his  teacher.  “I 
have  an  advantage  of  thee,”  he  would  shout,  “0  Lampadephorus,  in 
that  Adonai  hath  given  me  a  rightness  at  the  very  beginnings  of  these 
things.  ’  ’ 

And  Lampadephorus  taught  Samson-Solomon  often  by  subtle  alle¬ 
gories,  such  as  “The  Picture,”  by  Kebes,  and  that  about  Persephone 
and  Demeter,  and  Chronos  (who  is  simply  “Time”)  and  eke  many 
another,  in  which  the  story  was  single  indeed  but  the  meaning  com¬ 
plex,  and  often  not  to  be  understood  in  its  entirety  by  any  one  man. 
“Like  a  stone  which  standeth  in  the  desert  of  a  morning,  so  these 
tales  cast  shadows  which  are  longer  than  themselves.  ’  ’  So  said  Lampa¬ 
dephorus.  And  the  Jew  made  allegories  on  his  own  account,  turning 
(as  the  cliffs  and  abysses  passed  them  by  in  the  solemn  darkness)  his 


THE  FAILURE 


57 


own  dear  scriptures  into  tales  of  two-fold  (sometimes  of  treble)  mean¬ 
ing — so  as  to  approximate  the  ultimate  purport  of  those  scripture^ 
unto  the  significance  of  the  tales  which  he  had  had  from  his  sunny- 
headed  teacher,  Lampadephorus. 

And  yet  again  the  two  went  silent,  side  by  side,  each  with  his 
own-made  dreams.  And  ever  the  Jew  did  see  himself  (in  whatsoever 
dreams  he  had)  as  burdened  and  weighed  upon  by  a  great  responsi¬ 
bility,  the  duty  of  his  priesthood;  but  Lampadephorus,  as  he  beheld 
the  future  in  his  visions,  saw  it  as  a  thing  of  life  and  utter  physical 
beauty,  eating  and  drinking  and  pleasure — and  all  in  moderation  and 
very  fitting  and  excellent.  There  was  nothing  of  the  spiritual  about 
him,  except  the  little  he  had  caught  from  Samson.  The  thought  of 
Caesar,  whenever  it  arose,  the  Greek  strangled.  There  was  yet  an¬ 
other  difference  betwixt  these  two  men.  In  the  dreams  of  Samson- 
Solomon,  the  Jew  himself  was  ever  of  the  essence  of  the  dream — 
his  was  the  character  which  made  the  whole  vision  or  unmade  it, 
and  all  the  other  characters  in  the  dream  appeared  unto  the  Jew 
to  be  as  it  were  of  a  Jewish  cast,  for  he  thought  his  own  mind  into 
them.  But,  as  for  the  Greek,  he  was  merely  a  calm  observer,  seeing 
the  minds  of  all  the  people  in  his  dreams,  as  truly  the  minds  of 
people  are  in  plain  reality:  independent,  each  with  its  own  soul-life. 

And  there  were  other  and  irreconcilable  differences  between  Greek 
and  Jew — incompatibilities  which,  slumbering,  only  awaited — like 
steel  and  flint — some  external  force  to  draw  fire  between  them.  Espe¬ 
cially  the  Jew  was  like  to  be  provocative  of  anger  in  the  sunny- 
tempered  Greek,  because  much  less  adaptive,  much  more  resistant,  not 
so  capable  of  comprehending  what  might  prove  to  be  an  occasion 
of  offense. 

And  the  Jew,  on  a  day,  was  dreaming  slowly  of  his  priesthood — 
as  he  went  along  on  foot  beside  the  mounted  Greek — of  his  priesthood 
in  Jerusalem.  He  longed  for  his  joyous  turn  at  the  smoking  altar. 
He  felt  the  very  cleanness  and  the  quiet  of  his  sacerdotal  functions, 
heard  the  bells  on  the  high  priest’s  garment,  saw  the  rising  incense, 
had  the  feeling  of  the  Temple,  the  very  stones,  beneath  his  feet. 
He  had  almost  touched,  as  he  thought,  Jehovah  with  his  hands,  when 
suddenly  the  Greek  exclamied:  “See  yonder!  the  red  star  of  war — 
grim  Mars.” 

And  the  Jew,  being  startled,  both  by  this  and  also  by  a  dark 
shape  which  he  saw  in  the  desert,  declared :  “I  care  not, ’ ’  giving 
thus  an  offense  unto  the  Greek,  who,  after  a  time,  began  to  interrogate 
him,  with  a  certain  mockery:  “Wilt  thou  stay  for  an  oracle  at 
Jupiter  Ammon  ?  Or  wilt  thou  on  to  Crocodilopolis  and  Alexandria  ?  ’  ’ 


58 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


“To  Alexandria.” 

“But  why?  Thou  hast  only  perfume  in  thy  veins.  Thou  hast 
wholly  forgotten  the  occasion  of  thy  revenge  against  Trivialis.” 

Then  felt  Samson  of  Cyrene  a  deep  loathing  for  the  Greek.  But 
he  said  to  himself,  ‘  ‘  I  will  tell  this  man  of  all  my  feeling  for  Trivialis, 
for  so  it  may  lessen  my  friend’s  vexation  toward  me,  for  surely  it 
will  incline  his  heart  unto  forgiveness  and  so  unto  me.” 

But  the  Greek  crieth  out,  “It  is  gone,”  and  clapped  his  hand 
upon  his  girdle. 

“What  is  gone,  good  Lampadephorus ? ” 

“Nothing!  A  special  purse  I  had  at  my  girdle.  Yet  it  was 
much  too.  I  will  even  go  hack  and  look  for  it.” 

“And  I,”  said  the  Jew,  “will  go  and  assist  thee,  for  it  very 
well  may  he  that  the  heasts  which  follow  a  caravan  will  get  thee ;  and 
I  will  not  have  it  so.” 

But  Lampadephorus  would  not  suffer  the  Jew  or  any  other  to 
accompany  him,  though  many  offered — for  the  Greek  had  a  manner 
like  sunlight  in  the  sky,  and  the  company  loved  him. 

So  the  Greek  went  back  alone,  and  the  Jew  went  on  with  the 
caravan,  hanging,  nevertheless,  in  its  very  end,  and  looking  from 
time  to  time  backward  with  much  anxiety.  Once  he  could  have 
sworn  he  glimpsed  a  great  shadowy  figure  on  a  tall  black  horse — 
while  the  charger  of  Lampadephorus  was  white  and  his  cloak  a  golden 
brown.  But  a  cloud  of  sand  arose  in  that  portion  of  the  desert,  trail¬ 
ing  an  enormous  shadow,  and  the  Jew,  who  saw  not  always  properly 
at  some  distance,  began  to  believe  that  his  eyes  and  the  shadow  and 
the  uncertain  moonlight  must,  of  a  truth,  have  deceived  him. 

Presently,  over  a  rise,  came  the  sunny-headed  Greek  on  his  frost- 
white  charger.  He  dangled  in  air  a  little  silver  purse,  crying: 
“Eureka!  Eureka!  It  is  mine  again.  Rejoice,  0  Jew',  with  thy 
true  friend.” 

But,  in  the  Jew’s  mind  had  arisen  doubts,  and  the  boy  thought 
that  the  finding  of  the  purse  was  wholly  and  subtilly  a  ruse.  Yet 
he  only  said,  “I  was  to  tell  thee  how  the  matters  in  my  mind  stood 
touching  Trivialis.”  Then  told  he  him  of  all  the  war  that  had  waged 
in  his  heart  because  of  the  Mocker:  how  that  man  had  carried  him 
as  a  child,  in  his  loyal  arms,  had  made  him  cunning  little  camels 
and  horses  out  of  the  red  clay,  and  set  them  up  for  caravans,  and 
made  him  his  first  little  shepherd’s  crook.  “And,  therefore,”  said 
the  Jew,  “though  I  do  truly  hate  Trivialis,  yet  I  do  love  him  also. 
Oh,  what  shall  I  do  to  gain  me  revenge  upon  him  (a  man  I  love  as 


THE  FAILURE 


59 


well  as  hate)  which  shall  not  be  worse  for  me  than  for  that  man? 
In  any  case,  what  a  sorry  priest  am  I !  ” 

‘ ‘ A  sorry  priest !  Art  thou,  then,  a  priest  ?  ’  ’ 

“Have  I  not  told  thee?  I  am  of  the  tribe  of  Levi,  the  family  of 
Aaron,  the  course  of  Jedaiah,  so  that  I  am  relative  to  the  great  high 
priest  of  Jerusalem.  But  behold!  my  genealogy  (which  was  once  in 
the  archives  of  Jeshana)  is  wholly  and  forever  lost,  save  only  on  a 
piece  of  parchment  which  is  in  a  locket  that  I  carry  in  my  bosom — 
there  and,  as  God  may  have  it,  on  another  that  is  in  Jerusalem.  If 
I  shall  ever  get  me  unto  Jerusalem,  I  shall  be  a  priest,  because  of 
the  parchment  that  is  in  this  locket.  There  are  also  pearls  therein, 
pearls  that  be  priceless.” 

Now  the  Greek  would  see  the  locket — being  of  a  nature  inquisitive 
— but  the  Jew  would  not  on  any  account  disclose  it  to  him  or  suffer 
him  to  touch  it,  saying :  ‘  ‘  There  is  none  but  the  High  Priest  worthy. ’  9 
And  at  this  the  Greek  was  again  angered,  saying :  ‘  ‘  Thy  high  priest 
is  a  barbarian.” 

To  calm  him,  the  Jew  (though  an-angered  himself)  spake  unto 
him  about  the  glorious  maiden  Amahnah. 

“And  who  is  Amahnah,  a  Berber  or  a  Hebrew  wench?” 

“She  is  Hebrew  and  very  beautiful,”  replied  the  Cyrenian, 
a-tremble.  “Her  name  doth  signify  ‘the  Covenant.’  She  is  called 
also  ‘Berith,’  which  meaneth  the  same,  and  ‘Leah,’  which  meaneth 
‘Labor,’  and  ‘Keturah,’  which  signifieth  ‘a  sweet  odor,’  and 
‘ Machashebethel, ’  which  meaneth  ‘the  plan  of  God.’  Though  beauti¬ 
ful,  she  is  yet  at  times  severe.  She  is  a  child  of  God,  and  liveth 
with  the  Chazzan  in  the  synagogue.  Finally,  thou  hast  called  her 
wench.  She  is  not  as  the  harlot  Aphrodite,  a  fine  and  unconscionable 
woman,  protrectress  of  evil,  she  whom  thou  dost  bow  down  before 
and  worship.” 

Then  cried  the  Greek,  “Enough!  By  Hecate  Triformis!” 

“And  all  thy  gods,”  said  Samson  of  Cyrene,  for  his  soul  blazed 
hotter  even  as  he  kept  on  talking,  “are  much  upon  the  order  of 
thine  Aphrodite,  either  adulterers,  or  thieves,  or  else — ” 

“By  the  light  of  the  living  sun!  Barbarian!  Thou  callest  thy¬ 
self —  Thy  people  are  to  teach  the  world,  and  thou  to  teach  thy 
people!  Dog!  Cur!  Bramble  of  an  egotistical  Jew  and  blasphemer 
against  all  things  beautiful !  ’  ’ 

“Thou  art  the  blasphemer,  good  Lampadephorus ! ” 

“  ‘Good’  me  not,  sirrah,  nor  say  thou  unto  me  ‘Lampadephorus,’ 
but  look  thy  last  upon  these  stones,  for  I  mean  to  assault  thee  and 
to  kill  thee  where  thou  standest.  Even  as  thou  didst  fail  to  destroy 


60 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


the  mocker  of  thine  unbeautiful  Adonai,  so  will  I  kill  thee  and  fail 
not.  ’ ’ 

Now,  all  about  the  two  had  gathered  the  men  of  many  nations — 
both  Indus  and  Persa;  Arabs  and  Aegyptius;  Aethiops,  Spartanus, 
and  Britannus — as  well  as  many  others.  And  all  the  languages  of 
the  world  were  heard  among  these  roaring  men,  who,  for  the  most 
part,  declared,  either  in  one  tongue  or  another:  4 4 Let  us  be  against 
this  Samson  fellow  of  Gyrene,  for  he  is  a  Jew  and,  a  sore  hater  of 
idolatry — as  we  have  truly  heard  from  his  very  lips — and  lo !  all  the 
other  races  will  worship  one  another’s  gods  in  addition  to  their  own, 
but  not  so  the  Jew,  and  he  and  his  kind  would  interrupt  our  pleasures 
forever,  if  only  the  power  were  in  them,  and  would  also  destroy 
the  idols  and  the  temples  of  our  gods.  Let  us  therefore  be  against 
him,  and  see  that  he  surely  falls  before  the  Greek,  that  he  may  breed 
no  more  that  is  like  unto  him.  Away  with  him!  See!  The  Greek 
hath  drawn  two  swords.” 

But  when  the  Jew  beholdeth  that  all  the  world,  as  one  might 
say,  is  arrayed  against  him,  and  that  even  his  friend  draweth  not 
one  single  blade,  but  two,  then  his  heart  becometh  like  wax  a-melted 
in  the  midst  of  his  bowels,  and  he  counteth  all  his  bones,  for  lo! 
in  the  deeps  of  him,  he  feareth  the  cunning  of  the  Greek  and  the 
great  numbers  of  the  multitude.  Then  he  prayeth  unto  Jehovah, 
and  there  cometh  to  him  the  memory  of  much  strength,  and  of  a 
many  wolves  he  hath  slain,  and  the  bars  of  iron  his  hands  have 
twisted  asunder.  And  his  weakness  departed,  and  he  runneth  to  the 
packJiorse  of  the  Greek  and  teareth  from  out  the  fardel  both  the 
great,  stout  tent-poles,  and  seeing  at  a  little  way  a  mighty  rock  with 
a  slight  recess  therein,  he  attained  unto  it,  crying:  “Ebenezer!1  I 
am  ready :  be  it  as  ye  will.  ’ 7 

And  Lampadephorus  (he  that  had  been  his  friend)  assaulted  him, 
and  Samson  parried  and  returned  greater  blows,  a-crying  “At  thee!” 

“A.t  thee.  Parriestso?” 

“Thou  givest  all  the  same,  Idolater.  Back!” 

“Here  is  Greece.” 

“Here  Judea.” 

“There  is  red  in  thy  land.” 

“And  in  thine.” 

“With  me,  Hercules !  Help  ! 7 7 

1 1  He  cannot  help !  ’  ’ 

“Help!  Death!  Hercules!” 


1  Stone-of-Help. 


THE  FAILURE 


61 


And  the  raging  crowd  drew  swords  and  clnbs  and  rushed  to  the 
assistance  of  the  Greek.  But  Samson,  for  a  time,  smote  all  as  if  they 
had  had  no  weapons,  and  had  stood  but  to  drop  at  his  pleasure.  Then 
they  grew  more  numerous.  But  never  a  man  before  had  fought  so 
enduringly.  They  compassed  him  around  like  bees,  and  a  green 
mist  thickened  before  him. 

Then  heard  he,  in  the  middle  of  that  mist  a  strange  yet  friendly 
voice — the  voice  of  Lampadephorus,  the  Greek — crying:  “Nay,  by 
all  the  gods,  it  shall  not  be.  I  love  thee,  Samson-Solomon  of  Cyrene, 
my  friend/ ’ 

And  Solomon’s  head  was  next  in  the  lap  of  the  Greek,  and  the 
Greek  did  lave  his  temples  both  with  water  and  with  wine,  and  com¬ 
forted  him  mightily,  saying:  “Never  was  such  a  dimachaerus  born 
as  thou,  0  lovely  Samson-Solomon.  Knowest  thou  not,  in  this  affray, 
we  did  exchange  our  weapons?  So  hath  it  happened.  And  where 
didst  thou  learn  (a  half-baked  shepherd  merely)  the  feint  and  the 
stroke  that  well-nigh  sent  me  into  Tartarus?  Thou  madest  believe 
thou  wouldst  reach  me  on  the  head,  but  then  didst  come  at  my  heart. 
By  Friendship  and  Hercules !  Nay,  seek  not  to  answer.  Thy  wounds 
are  bounden,  and  now  sleep.” 


CHAPTER  VI 
The  Struggles  of  Trivialis 

And  Trivialis  learned  that  Hostilis,  the  unfortunate  man  upon 
whom  the  Master,  Shem,  would  have  taken  vengeance,  had,  on  a  long 
past  day,  got  himself  from  out  the  island,  and  journeyed  to  far 
Athens,  being  in  truth  at  the  present  moment  a  seller  of  oils  and 
olives  in  that  place  and  also  high  prosperous.  Therefore  said  Trivialis, 
“I  must  follow,  and  set  me  up  my  shop  beside  him,  and  undersell 
him,  and  thereby  ruin  him,  even  as  the  Master  told  me  he  would 
that  I  should  do.” 

Then  remembered  he  the  dream  which  he  had  had  in  the  belly  of 
the  ship,  when  the  Lord  had  spoken  unto  him,  saying:  “ Trivialis, 
Trivialis ! 9  9  And  the  man  had  answered  and  said  unto  Him,  ‘  ‘  Here, 
Lord,  am  1. 9  9  And  the  Lord  had  said  again  unto  him,  1 1  Trivialis ! ’  9 
And  Trivialis  had  answered  yet  again,  and  said:  “Jehovah,  here 
am  I.”  Then  had  the  Lord  said,  “Trivialis,  the  thing  which  thou 
wouldst  do  is  abhorrent  unto  me.  Yet  will  I  not  mightily  hinder 
thee  from  the  end  of  the  doing  thereof. 

‘ £  And  behold !  the  levity  of  thy  heart  is  known  to  me,  so  that 


62 


SIMON  OF  GYRENE 


thou  canst  not  be  unto  me  as  a  priest,  nor  yet  as  a  graven  monument. 
And  still  I  will  shape  thee  and  will  use  thee  for  a  purpose  all  mine 
own.  And  when  I  have  finished  with  thee,  I  will  break  thee  and  yet 
keep  thee.” 

Then  said  Trivialis,  “It  is  strange  I  had  forgotten  that  dream 
till  now.  I  am  fain  to  laugh.”  And  laugh  he  did,  though  without 
cause,  even  in  such  wise  that  Dissolutio,  who  chanced  to  be  passing, 
overheard  him,  then  saw  him,  and  then  marched  swiftly  up  to  him, 
crying,  in  an  ecstasy:  “Accursed  be  that  fellow  Agonus,  which 
did  set  us  apart.” 

But  behold !  Trivialis  said  not,  “I  am  glad  to  see  thee  once  more.” 
But,  instead:  “Thou  madest  a  gambler  and  a  drunkard  of  me.” 
And,  with  that,  he  rushed  upon  the  fellow,  and  might  indeed  have 
slain  him,  but  that  Dissolutio,  being  a  more  than  sufficient  fighter, 
got  him  a  strangle-hold  on  Trivialis ’s  neck,  the  which  (though  Trivialis 
did  break  the  hold  indeed)  so  pained  and  terrified  the  craven  that 
he  would  no  more  come  to  quarters  with  his  enemy,  but  gathered 
his  feet  together  and  ran,  and  so  became  clear  of  him.  And  finally, 
onto  a  ship  which  shortly  weighed  anchor,  and  left  for  Pirasus — which 
is  to  say,  the  sea-port  of  Athens,  where  Hostilis  abode. 

And  having  come  to  Athens,  he  sought  out  the  man  upon  whom 
his  master  had  wished  to  be  revenged,  and,  having  found  him,  pros¬ 
perous  and  growing  richer  day  by  day,  and  about  to  be  married,  he 
set  up  beside  him  another  shop  of  a  character  like  his  own.  And 
there,  because  of  the  monies  which  his  principal  had  made  him  the 
master  of,  Trivialis  undersold  the  man,  and  his  business  was  broken 
up,  and  the  man,  of  a  certain  night,  departed,  and  was  seen  no  more. 

Then  said  Trivialis,  “Master,  I  have  clone  thy  wish.  I  have 
destroyed  thine  enemy  and  given  thee  revenge.  Even  as  thy  son, 
Samson,  would  have  his  revenge  upon  thy  steward,  so  hath  that 
steward  gained  thy  revenge  for  thee,  and  for  this,  that  thou  wast 
mocked.  ’  ’ 

And  he  went  each  day  and  looked  upon  the  empty  shop  of  Hostilis, 
and  thought  on  many  things. 

Each  day  he  said  within  himself:  “Behold,  it  is  natural  that 
every  man  should  have  a  revenge.  Did  not  even  Cain  this  thing, 
and  unto  his  own  brother?  But  Hostilis  was  a  good  man,  after  all. 
Yet  what  so  human  as  revenge,  since  all  beasts  cherish  it  ?  And 
why  endeavor  to  root  out  that  which  is  human?  Yea  thy  choice  for 
priest,  0  Jehovah,  he  hath  also  a  revenge  as  against  me,  which  he 
cherisheth,  and  which,  on  a  day,  he  will  take,  to  my  destruction — 
or  so  I  truly  believe.” 


THE  FAILURE 


63 


Then,  being  heavy  of  heart  and  sore  afeard  also,  he  betook  him 
to  an  oracle  near  by,  inquiring:  “What  shall  be  the  fate  of  me, 
Trivialis  ?  ’  ’ 

The  prophetess  answered,  “He  that  hath  tried  to  kill  thee  will 
surely  see  thee  die.” 

The  bowels  of  the  man  turned  as  it  were  to  water  and  his  knees 
smote,  and  he  went  back  to  his  place  of  business,  crying  in  his  heart : 
“0  Lord,  I  have  sinned!” 

And  to  all  that  came  into  the  shop,  therefore,  he  spake  of  Adonai, 
thinking  so  to  propitiate  the  Lord.  But  much  men  scoffed,  saying: 
“Thou!  Thou  a  priest  of  any  god!  Why,  thou  art  a  man  of  busi¬ 
ness.  Dost  thou  not  understand  that  no  man  liveth  which  can  be 
both  a  priest  and  a  merchant  ?  Pah !  ’  ’ 

Trivialis  grew  bitter  at  heart,  and  he  said  within  him:  “This 
Samson-Solomon  of  Cyrene,  I  would  wager  a  skin  full  of  new  wine 
that,  turned  he  man  of  business,  he  yet  should  be  Jehovah’s  priest, 
and  not  a  little  shopful  of  people  only,  but  all  the  world,  would 
listen  to  him. 

“And  who  is  this  Samson  of  Cyrene?  Is  he  not  merely  man? 
Larger  he  than  I,  yea  and  more  enduring.  But  behold !  he  is  very 
sad  alway,  and  too  earnest.  But  I— I  am  cheerful  as  a  cricket  in 
an  early  hedge.  Thou  shouldest  have  had  a  cheerful  priest,  0  God. 
Yet,  0  Jehovah,  thou  hast  preferred  the  Jew  to  me!  He  thy  priest! 
Oh  very  well.  I  am  sad  enough  now.” 

Then  came  into  the  shop  one  that  said,  ‘  ‘  Thou  art  a  pretty  fellow.  ’  ’ 

“For  why?”  asked  Trivialis. 

“For  this,  that  thou  hast  done  a  terrible  thing,  having  destroyed 
the  business  of  Hostilis.  And  now  he  hath  cut  his  throat.” 

The  messenger  would  have  said  more,  but  Trivialis,  putting  his 
fingers  in  his  ears,  ran  away,  crying  (for  at  heart  he  was  not  all 
bad)  “Would  I  had  not  done  this  thing!  Oh,  would  to  God  I  had 
not  done  it.” 

But  when  he  had  drunken  his  fill  of  Falernian  wine,  and  was 
therefore  not  any  longer  fearful  that  he  might  hear  reproaches,  he 
returned  to  his  shop,  and  sold  out  all  the  figs  and  the  oil  and  the 
dates,  and  put  these  moneys  with  the  others,  saying:  “It  is  thine, 
0  son  of  my  Master.” 

But,  on  the  morrow  (having  slept  ill,  for  that  he  had  caused  a 
fellow  man’s  ruin  and  death)  he  went  about  again,  drinking  first 
in  one  caupona  then  another,  until,  at  last,  the  night  came  down 
upon  him,  and,  in  a  mist  of  mind,  he  went  to  sleep  in  a  strange 


64 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


place.  Arising  whenas  the  sun  was  again  well  up,  he  discerned  he 
was  robbed. 

Then  flew  the  man  around  in  an  agony  of  gross  despair.  “Where 
are  the  rubies  and  the  emeralds  which  I  bought  me,  and  in  which 
sweet  form  I  would  indeed  have  sent  thy  wealth  unto  thee,  0  Cyrenian 
Samson?  Where  are  the  little  bright  playthings  which  did  truly 
belong  to  thee  and  which  I,  a  fool — ” 

He  searched  his  girdle,  his  cloak,  eke  his  pileus,  time  after  time. 
Then  dug  wildly  in  the  sand  whereon  he  had  lain,  rushing  from  spot 
to  spot  like  one  with  a  demon.  Wider  and  wider  grew  the  circles 
wherein  he  sought,  more  and  more  rapid  his  motions.  At  length, 
beholding  one  that,  staff  in  hand,  did  travel  a  near-by  road,  he  flew 
to  him,  saying:  “I  prithee  give  me  back  my  money.  It  was  not 
indeed  mine,  but  my  master’s — my  master’s  son’s.  I  prithee  give 
it  me  back.” 

But  the  man  did  buffet  him  sorely,  and,  not  having  uttered  a 
word,  passed  on. 

Then  ran  Trivialis  toward  the  city,  which  he  descried  at  a  little 
distance,  and,  seeing  a  man  coming  hitherward,  attended  by  slaves, 
he  ran  quickly  up,  crying:  “Give  me,  oh  give  me  back  my  money! 
The  jewels!  The  jewels  thou  didst  steal  from  me  yesternight  as  I 
lay  a-drunken  in  yon  corner.  ’  ’ 

Said  the  man  to  him,  1  i  Thou  runaway  slave  and  fool  thou !  Hast 
lost  thy  master’s  money,  and  gone  a-crazed  over  it?  Give  him  of 
good  blows  a  plenty,  0  my  servants,  that  hereafter  he  may  remember 
and  be  more  careful  with  the  property  of  him  that  doth  own  him.” 

The  servants  beat  Trivialis  sore,  and  left  him  as  one  dead. 

But,  in  the  cool  of  the  evening,  he  revived  and  wTent  back  into 
the  city,  saying  to  each  and  every  man  he  met :  1 1  Give  me,  I  prithee, 
back  the  money  thou  didst  steal  from  me.  ’  ’ 

They  thought  him  demented,  and  one  said  to  another:  “Is  not 
this  crazy  fellow  Trivialis,  he  that  undersold  Hostilis  and  so  de¬ 
stroyed  him?  The  gods  have  taken  revenge.” 

When  he  heard  this,  Trivialis  slipt  forth  out  of  the  city,  and, 
for  long  days,  wandered  the  roads  of  Attica  and  Sparta,  pretending 
at  one  time  to  be  a  travelling  sophist,  at  another  a  runaway  slave 
(for  so  he  did  secure  from  them  that  were  truly  slaves  both  food 
and  shelter)  and  again  he  played  the  simple  parasite  upon  some  yet 
simpler  countryman. 

On  a  day,  he  yawned  very  slowly.  Then,  being  in  a  corner  alone, 
he  cried  out:  “ Ah-huml  When  a  man  is  a  homeless  fool,  he  had 
better  be  married.” 


THE  FAILURE 


65 


CHAPTER  VII 
The  Lesser  Serpent 

After  their  battle,  the  Greek,  each  day,  taught  the  Jew  the  art 
of  being  a  dimachserus,  or  two-handed  swordsman.  And  there  were 
those  who  were  fools  and  who  watched  and  stood  at  a  little  distance, 
mimicking  the  motions  both  of  pupil  and  of  master.  But  the  pupil 
gathered  strength  and  skill  each  day,  and  the  heart  of  the  Jew  and 
the  heart  of  the  Greek  were  closely  knit  together  each  unto  each, 
and  wholly  and  forever  ligamented. 

Now,  on  a  certain  evening,  when  the  Jew  arose,  there  was  no 
Greek  beside  him.  Not  till  the  figs  and  the  dates  had  been  all  con¬ 
sumed,  and  the  tents  unstaked,  and  the  bells  set  upon  the  horses’ 
necks,  did  the  Jew  discover  the  whereabouts  of  his  friend.  At  just 
a  little  journey  from  the  camp,  hidden  therefrom  by  a  ridge  of  tur- 
moiled  sand,  he  beheld  Lampadephorus.  Deep  in  talk  he  was  with 
a  strangely  swaddled  person,  whose  face  the  Jew  could  not  in  anywise 
discover.  Yet  the  man  did  sit  a  little  bowed  on  his  tall  black  steed, 
and  keep  eternally  his  mantle  about  his  head.  It  seemed  for  a 
moment  as  if  this  fellow  might  have  been  the  hated  Trivialis. 

Then  came  Lampadephorus  back,  crying:  “Ho!  Ambidexter! 
Why  art  thou  downcast?  Hast  thou  forgot  the  passes  I  taught  thee 
yesterday?  Thou  art  stubborn  material,  0  Jew,  but,  like  the  Parian 
marble,  thou  wouldst  retain  forever  the  ideas  that  once  were  chiseled 
into  thee. — But  see !  on  the  morrow  we  shall  sight  the  walls  of  Jupiter 
Ammon,  and  so  we  shall  journey  well  on  into  the  daylit  hours  that 
we  may  reach  that  place  and  no  more  night  be  spent. — Dost  thou 
remember  how  I  showed  thee  to  make  the  twisted  lightnings  about 
thy  head  with  a  single  blade  only,  all  the  while  the  other,  straight  in 
straight  out,  did  set  the  blood  of  thine  enemies  at  liberty?  Be  of  a 
piece  with  both  thy  blades,  0  marvellous  ambidexter  born,  and  live 
down  into  the  wondrous  tips  thereof.  Thou  wilt  not  forget:  Thou 
art  the  only  perfect  dimachserus  on  this  earth.” 

Said  Samson,  “I  will  not  forget.  It  may  stand  me  in  good  stead 
in  the  day  of  my  revenge.  There  are  other  things  I  have  not  for¬ 
gotten.  ’ 9 

At  that  he  felt  a  calling  forth  of  all  the  evil  there  was  in  him. 
And  behold,  on  the  morrow,  a  change  came  also  over  the  face  of  the 
desert.  For  the  sands  grew  much  more  wrinkled  and  far  sharper 
and  finer,  and  a  wind  arose — the  ancient  desert  wind  which  had 


66 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


hidden  and  unhidden  many  secrets  of  the  sands — bones  and  treasures 
and  crimes  unrecorded.  The  air  grew  mistier,  even  at  the  very 
moment  that  Lampadephorus  cried  out :  ‘  ‘  The  walls  of  Ammon !  ’  ’ 

Then  the  wind  wailed,  and  from  the  cliffs  by  the  caravan  track 
came  sinister  shrieks,  and  behold,  from  a  little  twisted  oasis-road, 
which  wound  among  many  rocks,  there  issued,  on  a  horse  of  black, 
to  mingle  with  the  caravan — was  it  not  the  mocker,  Trivialis?  The 
same  dark  cloak,  with  spots  and  rings  of  red  upon  it!  The  same 
stiff  bend  in  the  shoulders!  And  all  about  the  figure  the  same  way 
of  clownishness  and  sheer  hollow  mockery. 

What  did  Trivialis  here? 

The  heart  of  the  Jew  rose  straight  within  him.  He  said:  “I 
will  strike.  Mine  eyes  shall  not  come  off  thee,  0  Trivialis,  till  I 
have  found  both  place  and  time.”  He  brought  liis  fists  together, 
a  mighty  blow. 

The  Mocker  rode  on  to  the  head  of  the  caravan,  as  were  he  the 
one  true  owner  thereof.  And  when  he  had  entered  the  walls  of 
Ammon,  he  dismounted.  Giving  his  horse  to  the  keep  of  one  that 
straight  did  lead  him  within  the  temple  stables,  he  began  to  slip 
and  slide  among  the  trees  and  shadows  of  a  strange  garden. 

But  Samson  followed. 

How  elusive,  this  mocker,  Trivialis!  Yet  how  he  seemed  to  grow, 
to  become  more  and  more  majestic  amid  the  temple  deeps.  How 
closely  he  held  the  mantle  round  about  his  bent  head. 

As  he  slipped,  now  here  now  there,  the  eye,  for  a  time,  could 
scarcely  follow  him  at  all.  Yet,  once  more,  there  he  appeared,  moving 
on  where  least  he  might  have  been  expected. 

And  so  he  led,  like  an  evil  shadow,  to  a  far  corner  of  the  dark 
garden,  there,  in  a  place  of  stinking  weeds  and  choking  mists,  paused, 
as  if  lost  in  thought. 

Up  ran  Samson-Solomon  of  Cyrene,  crying:  “Thou  art  a  cordial 
for  low  spirits,  my  man!”  And  would  have  laid  violent  hold  upon 
him,  but  that  he  altogether  failed  to  touch  even  his  shape. 

The  figure  turned  slowly  round,  and  the  hood  about  the  head 
relaxed  and  dropped.  And  Samson-Solomon  beheld  not  the  counte¬ 
nance  of  Trivialis  of  Cyrene,  but  a  pale,  triangular  and  mottled  face, 
like  that  of  a  serpent.  In  the  midst  thereof  two  black,  unwinking 
orbs.  They  saw  to  Samson’s  soul  with  unparalleled  hatred. 

For  the  first  time,  Samson  observed  that  even  the  robes  of  the 
man  were  regal,  and  that,  upon  his  bosom,  was  a  mantle-clasp  of 
heavy  gold,  wherein  gleamed  one  great  fiery  carbuncle.  Round  the 
neck  was  a  massive  chain  of  scale-like  links,  which  the  majestic  being, 


THE  FAILURE 


67 


with  pliant  fingers,  did  ever  coil  and  yet  again  uncoil  most  nervously. 

The  Jew  attempted  to  cry,  “Who  art  thou?”  His  lax  lips  only 
uttered,  strangely:  “Thou  art  here.” 

Said  the  hissing  mouth,  which  a  lean  tongue  wetted :  1 1  Both  here 
and  also  all  about  the  world.  ’  ’ 

“I  am  Samson-Solomon,  shepherd  of  Cyrene.” 

“Or  ere  thou  wast  within  the  dark  of  thy  mother’s  womb  I 
knew  thee.” 

“Me!” 

“Thee.  ’Twas  I  that  sold  thee,  later,  to  the  King  of  the  South: 
thou  hast  forgotten.  And  I  will  shape  thy  destinies.  Why  didst 
thou  not  kill  thine  enemy,  when  thou  thoughtest  thou  hadst  him 
alone?  To  the  work  another  time,  0  Samson-Solomon  of  the  sheep- 
pastures  of  the  world,  and  suffer  him  not  to  escape.  Now  back  to 
the  caravan!” 

The  boy  would  gladly  have  refrained  from  following,  yet  he  went. 

And  when  they  twain  had  gone,  and  the  strange  being  had  re¬ 
ceived  his  horse  again  where  the  caravan  waited,  Samson  placed  his 
hand  upon  the  withers  of  the  gaunt  one’s  charger  (though  he  had 
not  been  told  that  he  should  do  this)  in  the  stead  of  that  of  Lampade- 
phorus. 

And,  after  a  while  of  silence  over  the  wrinkled  sands,  as  the 
three  led  on  the  angling  caravan,  the  Jew  said  to  the  mantled  one: 
“I  seem  to  know  thou  art  called  ‘Ophidion.’  ” 

“I  am  Ophidion.” 

“Which,  too,  signifieth  ‘a  little  serpent.’  ” 

“I  am  a  serpent-priest  in  Alexandria.  The  temples  of  Serapis 
know  me;  also  those  of  the  crocodile  at  Crocodilopolis ;  those  of  the 
sacred  bull,  Osiris  or  Apis ;  of  the  jackal-headed  man,  Anubis ;  Khnum, 
the  ram-headed  god  of  the  water,  and  Heka,  the  Frog.  I  am  also 
priest  unto  Mut,  which  is  Space,  and  Seb,  which  is  Time.” 

Now  the  Jew  thought  that  Ophidion  spake  yet  again,  but  when 
he  looked  at  the  man ’s  eyes,  behold !  they  were  gazing  neither  at  him 
nor  yet  at  Lampadephorus. 

So  Samson  said,  “Prayest  thou,  perchance,  to  Adonai?” 

Turned  Ophidion  upon  him  egregious  eyes,  in  the  deeps  whereof 
were  red  fires,  and  wetted  his  lips,  and  after  a  fashion  laughed. 

The  lad  began  to  make  exculpation  for  having  spoken  of  Adonai. 
But  Ophidion:  “Excuse  thyself  not,  0  shepherd:  tell  all.” 

Solomon  (though  greatly  against  his  will)  spake  long  about  his 
knowledge  of  Adonai  (while  the  countenance  of  the  serpent-man  was 
covered  with  its  hood)  also  about  his  vision  in  the  tomb  of  Shem, 


68 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


and  the  lovely  Amahnah,  and  the  sweet-voiced  Chazzan,  also  about 
the  locket  which  the  Chazzan  had  given  him,  and  the  pearls  therein, 
and  his  genealogy — -which  was  nowhere  else  to  be  found,  perhaps, 
than  in  that  locket. 

Said  Ophidion,  without  uncovering  his  head :  ‘  ‘  Sacrifice.  ’  ’ 

“Where?” 

“Throughout  the  world.” 

“To  whom?” 

“To  Seb  and  Set,  but  chiefly  unto  bloody  Mars,  the  god  of  war.” 

“But  I  am  to  be  as  a  monument — ” 

‘  ‘  I  will  prevent  thee.  Thou  shalt  sacrifice  much  unto  Mars.  Study 
thou  greatly,  also,  with  Lampadephorus.  He  can  teach  thee  a 
thousandfold  more  than  can  thy  Betah,  yea  and  the  solemn  truth 
besides,  and  not  lies.  Be  accursed.  Get  thy  hand  from  my  steed, 
and  take  thee  back  half-way  unto  the  caravan.  There  remain:  there 
follow. — Lampadephorus !  ’  ’ 

So  the  Jew  fell  midway  back  toward  the  caravan.  And  he  saw 
the  serpent-man  Ophidion,  with  his  head  all  covered,  together  with 
the  sunny-headed  Greek,  riding  in  a  strange,  deep  talk. 


CHAPTER  VIII 
Servants  of  Caesar 

Now  when  they  had  all  come  to  Crocodilopolis,  then  Samson- 
Solomon  of  Cyrene  took  up  his  abode  with  a  Jewish  rabbi,  named 
Azrikam.  But  Lampadephorus  went  to  the  Brucheium,  or  Greek 
quarter,  seeking  out  there  a  certain  house.  And  having  been  ad¬ 
mitted,  he  passed  all  alone  to  an  upper  chamber.  Here  he  clapped 
his  hands,  and  servants  appeared,  who  conducted  him  into  a  bath 
and  gave  him  fresh  apparel.  Then  he  ordered  parchment,  ink  and 
reeds,  and,  dismissing  the  servants,  attempted  to  compose  his  thoughts. 

For  a  time  he  paced  the  chamber  restlessly.  Then  he  said  aloud, 
“It  is  all  unbeautiful,  for  why  should  anyone  attempt  to  strive  with 
Caesar?  I  will  therefore  write  as  I  know  that  I  finally  must.” 

He  sat  therefore  and  composed  in  a  secret  cypher  as  follows: — 

To  the  Lord  of  All  the  World,  Greeting: 

I  made  report,  O  Caesar,  unto  the  Cyrenaic  spy  at  Apollonia,  even  by  the 
hand  of  the  legionary,  Adjutor,  and  again,  in  the  desert,  unto  the  chief  of  all 
thy  delators,  even  Ophidion,  yet  again  by  the  same  man  a  little  upon  the  way 
betwixt  Jupiter  Ammon  and  here,  which  is  Crocodilopolis.  And  now,  in  accordance 
with  thy  former  instructions,  I  report  unto  thee,  direct,  precisely  those  same 
matters  which  I  reported  to  him  of  Apollonia,  and  also,  twice,  to  Ophidion. 


THE  FAILURE 


69 


Know,  then,  that  the  treasure  which  thou  seekest  was  stolen  by  Dysmas  and 
Gestas,  aided  perchance  by  an  even  worser  man,  Barabbas.  I  have  determined 
where  the  treasure  lieth,  and  as  I  cannot  take  many  fighters  with  me  for  fear  of 
arousing  suspicion,  the  men  which  I  shall  take  will  be  of  the  best — giants  and 
men  of  great  skill,  who  can  overcome  anything. 

In  the  margins  of  the  desert,  just  at  the  tombs  of  Gyrene,  I  came  across  a 
man,  a  youth  rather,  who  will  be  of  the  greatest  value  unto  me  and  unto  thee. 
A  lasting  friendship  hath  he  formed  for  me.  Hence  I  am  sure  that  I  can  prevail 
upon  him  to  go  with  me  to  the  place  where  the  treasure  lieth,  and,  if  I  can,  he 
is  worth  a  hundred  ordinary  men.  Such  a  dimachEerus!  Thou  wilt  see  him  on 
a  day — of  that  I  am  certain. 

But  Ophidion  hath  formed  an  unaccountable  dislike  unto  this  youth.  I  believe 
he  meaneth  to  rob  him  of  a  certain  locket — why,  it  is  hard  to  see.  There  are 
pearls  in  the  locket,  so  the  young  man  told  me.  Also  a  piece  of  parchment  with 
his  genealogy  writ  thereon,  the  which,  as  he  saith,  containeth  his  right  unto  a 
certain  priesthood  in  Jerusalem.  Now  Ophidion  hateth  this  priesthood.  As  to 
what  Ophidion  desireth,  I  leave  thee,  Cassar,  to  determine.  As  Ophidion  standcth 
higher  in  thy  service,  O  Lord  of  All  the  World,  than  do  I,  I  make  no  endeavor 
to  hinder  the  robbing  which  he  intendeth  on  the  Jew.  Neither  will  I  help  it 
onward.  So  wouldst  thou  have  me  to  do,  I  truly  believe.  But  if  the  youth  come 
out  of  the  combat  on  life  and  fit  for  action,  I  will  use  him,  even  as  I  did  just 
now  declare  unto  thee,  for  the  getting  of  the  treasure  from  those  robbers. 

With  him  or  without  him,  we  shall  get  it — have  no  fear. 

But  if  only  thou  couldst  see  my  dimacha3rus!  Ambidexter  born  is  he.  By 
all  the  gods!  I  saw  him  in  a  fearful  fight  (as  we  came  along  the  desert  way) 
with  certain  of  those  in  the  caravan.  He  drave  two  score  of  men  about  like  little 
mice.  Lord  of  All  the  World,  he  is  thine  ambidexter,  and,  on  a  day  (I  prophesy) 
will  stand  before  thee  on  the  sand  (even  as  I  myself  have  stood)  twice-armed  and 
accomplishing  miracles.  He  is  thine.  I  promise  him  to  the  Lord  of  All  this 
World. 

I  am  deeply  beholden  unto  thee,  O  Divinity,  for  the  stalwart  sons  of  earth 
whom  thou  hast  allotted  for  this  expedition,  but  the  youth  whom  I  ran  across  by 
accident  (if  there  be  such  things  as  accidents)  is  worth  them  all,  and  more  also. 

I  will  get  thee  back  thy  treasures — have  no  fear.  I  am  strongly  convinced 
of  great  success  to  come,  as  concerning  this  matter. 

As  to  myself,  I  am  often  filled  with  the  deepest  forebodings  of  evil.  I  have 
the  strangest  dreams.  In  any  case,  O  Caesar,  I  am  ever  thine.  I  have  always 
served  thee  loyally,  and  thou  canst  fully  depend  upon  me  till  I  die. 

Lampadephorus. 

And  when  he  had  written,  Lampadephorus  made  a  duplicate.  Seal¬ 
ing  both  the  letters,  he  ordered  unto  him  two  servants  separately, 
and  despatched  the  letters  to  Rome,  each  servant  with  his  own  par¬ 
ticular  letter,  and  travelling  Romeward  by  a  different  way. 

But  the  messengers,  having  left  the  house  by  opposite  doors,  got 
themselves  together  again  in  a  wine-shop.  And,  therein,  when  glori¬ 
ously  a-drunken,  saith  the  one  unto  the  other :  “I  have — hie — wench 
I  will  see  out  here  in  oasis.  Take  thou  both  letters  of  Lampadephorus 
thy  one — hie — self  unto  Rome,  that  I — hie — may  be  able  to  see  wench. 
Thou,  gotten  unto  Rome,  ere  thou  goest  in  unto  Cjesar — hie — get  yet 
another  messenger  to  take  in  letter  I’m  ’sposed  to  take.  Good  ’s  my 
goin’.  Here’s  little  gold.” 

Said  the  other  messenger,  “Hie — fine  enough.  Lampadephorus 
only  man.  We’re  gods.  Man’s  drunk,  ’s  good  as  gods.  Overrule 
him.  In  gold,  into  my  purse.  See  thy  wench,  god.” 


70 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


And  Lampadephorus,  in  the  house,  sent  for  yet  another  servant, 
and  said  to  him:  “Scia  (or  shadow),  sawest  thou  me  today  as  I 
entered  the  city?” 

“I  saw,  0  Master.” 

“There  was  with  me  a  Jew.” 

“Yes,  Master.” 

“Watch  thou  him — thou  and  yet  another  watch  him.  Watch  ye, 
and  bring  me  report  of  everything  he  doth.  But  me  ye  need  not 
watch  unless  I  so  order  again.” 

Thus  saying,  he  went  out  on  the  street,  and  so  to  the  temple  of 
the  crocodile,  where  he  knew  that  Ophidion  dwelt,  for  he  craved 
audience  with  him.  But  Ophidion  refusing  to  see  him,  he  went  on 
down  to  the  quays,  among  the  ships,  intending  there  to  enquire  from 
among  Cassar’s  spies  the  whereabouts  of  Trivialis.  And  he  learned 
that  the  Mongrel,  Trivialis,  was  not  in  Alexandria,  but  that,  at 
Apollonia,  he  had  taken  a  ship  for  Rhodes.  Then  sent  Lampadephorus 
unto  Samson-Solomon  a  messenger,  saying:  “My  master,  Lampade¬ 
phorus,  hath  found  out  that  thine  enemy  hath  gone  not  unto  Alexan¬ 
dria,  but  unto  Joppa.”  In  sending  such  a  message,  the  Greek  had  his 
own  reasons. 

Ophidion,  meanwhile,  he  that  Samson-Solomon  had  mistaken  for 
Trivialis,  paced  the  floor  of  a  secret  chamber  in  the  temple  unto  the 
crocodile. 

“As  I  am  a  righteous  man,”  cried  he,  “we  will  get  the  locket — 
I  and  Emah.  Trust  ye  a  harlot.  Already  in  the  desert  a  plan  did 
halfway  come  to  me.  Idolatry,  what  a  help  thou  art  to  all  righteous 
intentions !  Without  thee  I  might  indeed  overcome  certain  plebeians, 
but,  with  thee,  procurators,  knights,  senators,  governors  of  whole 
provinces,  yea,  and  at  length,  it  shall  be  even  Cagsar  himself.  For 
there  is  no  bound  to  my  ambitions.  I  do  remember  my  boyhood  in 
Mesopotamia:  even  there  I  was  called  ‘King  of  Tyre/  ” 

He  whispered  to  some  imaginary  presence.  “Now  how  to  go 
about  this?  How  to  get  the  Jew — his  locket?  He  tarrieth  with  the 
Rabbi,  the  Archisynagogus — which  is  bad.  A  holy  man.  His  very 
name  doth  signify,  ‘a  help  against  the  enemy.’  However,  I  have 
a  coadjutor  within  that  house.  Let  Azrikam  be  accursed.  We  will 
get  the  locket.  Let  me  think. 

“Now,  Jehovah,  I  have  thee.”  He  placed  a  hand  over  his  heart, 
as  if  in  a  great,  sudden  pain.  ‘  ‘  Accursed !  Let  me  see.  ’  ’ 

He  came  in  his  pacing  to  a  full  stop,  and  his  eyes  grew  dull  with 
pondering. 

“He  is  young,”  said  the  thin  lips,  after  a  while,  “therefore 


THE  FAILURE 


71 


passionate.  Emah,  thou  wouldst  understand.  Being  young,  he  is 
also  weak  of  will.  I  must  tell  her,  that  she  forget  it  not.  She  must 
overcome  him  with  her  will.  Her  strength  of  will,  her  beauty,  her 
lambent  passion.  Let  it  be  so,  let  it  be  all  these.  The  plan  is  de¬ 
cided.” 

And  Ophidion  summoned  the  Egyptian  priestess,  Emah,  whose 
name,  being  interpreted,  meaneth  “A  Horror,  as  That  which  is  Felt 
Toward  a  Beast,”  and  told  her  of  his  intrigue.  “See  thou,  therefore, 
that  the  sacrificial  meats  are  poisoned,  that  the  giant,  having  eaten, 
may  fall  into  a  dulness,  so  that  then  we  may  easily  rob  him,  despoiling 
him  both  of  his  priesthood  and  his  pearls.” 

She  promised  to  obey  in  all  things. 

He  went  unto  an  oracle  that  stood  in  the  temple,  and,  before 
he  went  out  into  the  street,  inquired  of  the  oracle:  “In  all  the  ages 
yet  to  come,  shall  idolatry  pass  away?” 

The  voice  was  clear:  “Images  shall  pass  away,  idolatry  never.” 

The  man  was  wroth,  and  put  his  hand  about  his  heart,  saying: 
“I  would  the  images  might  remain  also.” 

Yet  he  went  his  way. 

And  wandered  to  and  fro  about  the  streets — to  and  fro,  and  seeing 
a  multitude  of  things  which  he  meant  to  worsen.  To  and  fro  with 
resistless  energy  of  will.  He  seemed  to  have  no  nationality,  and  yet 
to  be  of  all  nationalities.  Sometimes  he  appeared  to  be  of  low  and 
vulgar  mold,  like  the  stinking  inhabitants  of  the  lower  portions  of 
the  city,  again  he  was  high  and  courtly  in  bearing.  Sometimes  gro¬ 
tesque  and  ugly,  he  again  seemed  clad  in  the  beauty  of  an  archangel. 

At  length  he  came  before  the  house  of  the  Rabbi  where  Samson- 
Solomon  abode.  ‘  ‘  Thy  guest, 9  9  said  he,  “0  holy  Rabbi,  I  will  entirely 
seduce  to  unrighteousness,  nor  shall  he  ever —  Be  accursed,  both 
thou  and  he  that  is  under  thy  roof.” 

He  stopped  at  a  place  in  the  Brucheium,  where  he  made  arrange¬ 
ments  with  a  little  spy  to  be  upon  the  boat  whereon  Emah  was  to 
take  the  JewT  (in  case  the  coadjutor  in  Azrikam’s  house  should  fail) 
the  day  of  his  seduction,  that  he  might  be  able  to  secure  for  himself 
(but  not  for  Caesar)  yet  another  most  intimate  report  of  the  ways  of 
Emah  upon  the  boat.  He  trusted  nobody. 

Then,  to  and  fro  he  continued  about  the  streets  of  the  city :  hating, 
contemning;  scheming,  intriguing;  listening,  whispering. 


72 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


CHAPTER  IX 
The  Godward  Side 

Now  Samson-Solomon  from  the  sheepfolds  of  far  Pentapolis  sought 
out  the  house  of  Azrikam.  And  it  happened  that  Azrikam  and  other 
elders  of  the  Jews  lay,  even  of  that  hour,  at  a  banquet  in  Azrikam ’s 
house. 

And  the  soul  of  the  young  giant,  as  he  passed  on  to  Azrikam ’s 
triclinium,  was  greatly  troubled — not  at  the  glow  and  Tyrian  magnifi¬ 
cence  of  the  apartment — hundreds  of  candles,  cooled  and  perfumed 
airs,  the  respectful  slaves — but  only  at  this :  the  sweet  solemnity  and 
high  holiness  of  all  those  blessed  elders,  in  especial  Azrikam.  Now, 
Azrikam ’s  face  was  as  the  face  of  Nathan  and  of  Solomon  and  of 
them  that  were  with  these  men  and  of  some  that  were  before  them. 
All  at  once,  Samson  seemed  to  catch  the  Rabbi’s  voice,  as  he  said: 
“My  son,  already  have  I  fully  announced  thee  unto  these,  for  I  have 
heard  of  thy  coming  by  a  letter  from  Amahnah.  She  hath  had 
word  about  thee  out  of  the  desert,  and  about  whither  thou  didst 
mean  to  go.  But  why  hast  thou  not  Amahnah  with  thee?” 

Said  Samson,  “It  is  solely  because  of  mine  own  sin  (either  of 
one  kind  or  another)  that  I  came  away  without  The  Child  of  God. 
Yet  it  may  be  that,  on  some  later  day,  I  shall  return  unto  her,  and, 
God  willing,  espouse  her.” 

Azrikam  saith,  “At  all  events,  be  amid  us  in  sweetness  and  peace. 
Blessed  is  he  that  cometh  in  the  name  of  the  Lord.” 

And  he  kissed  the  young  man,  and  embraced  him,  and  gave  him 
one  by  one  the  names  of  the  holy  men  that  stood  about. 

Samson  would  have  knelt  and  kissed  the  borders  of  all  their 
garments,  but  Azrikam  said:  “Not  so,  thou  who  art  a  priest,  and 
not  merely  a  priest,  but  one  of  the  course  of  Jedaiah — which  is  that 
of  the  High  Priest  himself.  Not  so.  But  the  rather  let  us,  elder 
though  we  be,  make  obeisance  unto  thee,  who  art  priest  above  the 
common  priests.” 

The  elders  made  obeisance.  And  Samson  blushed,  and  placed  his 
arms  across  his  breast,  after  the  fashion  of  slaves. 

Whereat  Azrikam,  well  pleased,  said:  “Having  laid  aside  the 
raiment  of  thy  dusty  journey,  come  in  and  be  among  us.” 

And  when  Samson  had  gone  with  a  slave,  and  been  bathed,  and 
put  on  fresh  apparel,  and  returned  unto  them,  they  all  lay  again  at 
meat,  and  Samson-Solomon  of  Cyrene  in  the  bosom  of  Azrikam. 


THE  FAILURE 


73 


Azrikam  said  unto  liim,  “How  fareth  the  work  of  the  Lord  in 
Cyrenaica  ?  ’  ’ 

Samson  blushed  once  more  and  said,  “Not  well.  Many  there  be 
of  our  race  who  go  the  ways  of  idolatry,  and  of  all  the  abominations 
which  do  belong  unto  the  worship  of  false  gods.”  And  he  blushed 
once  more,  for  he  remembered  the  hawk,  before  the  which  he  had 
himself  worshipped.  He  also  remembered  Temunah,  who  had  seduced, 
him  whenas  he  had  been  a  captive  to  the  King  in  the  South. 

Azrikam  said  unto  him,  “Hast  thou  had  an  excellent  journey?” 

Said  Solomon,  “Lo,  a  most  excellent  journey.”  And  he  told  of 
the  wonderful  things  he  had  seen  in  the  desert.  But  of  the  blow 
he  had  given  Trivialis,  of  that  spake  he  not.  At  length  he  said: 
“Whenas  we  arrived  in  Crocodilopolis,  this  selfsame  Ophidion,  he 
that  had  been  so  scornful  unto  me  in  the  desert,  he  took  me  to  a 
secret  place  within  this  hour,  and,  making  a  great  pretence  at  my 
importance,  presented  me  to  a  priestess,  Emah.  ‘See!’  he  cried,  ‘0 
priestess,  one  high  above  all  other  priests.’  And  him,”  said  Samson, 
“I  hated  then  more  than  ever  before.  But  [with  a  blush]  Emah  is 
beautiful  in  the  extreme.” 

Azrikam,  when  he  had  gazed  on  the  youth  from  far  Pentapolis, 
and  had  seen  in  his  face  only  the  prayers  and  yearnings  of  the  lonely 
pastures,  said  at  length  unto  the  rest,  as  he  had  just  put  a  great 
suspicion  down:  “We  do  wrong,  0  brethren,  that  we  suffer  our 
guest  even  to  speak  to  us  concerning  these  things.” 

“Yea,”  snarled  a  great  man  with  a  long  black  beard  and  severe 
countenance.  “Yea,  we  do  wrong.  But  chiefly  for  this  do  we  wrong, 
that  we  say  not  unto  each  other  instead  (with  a  very  priest  of  priests 
in  our  circle)  why  the  Lord  our  God  is  best,  and  why  we  would  have 
Him  in  the  place  of  all  the  other  gods.  It  is  a  custom  from  earlier 
days.  Is  it  not  meet  we  should  do  this  thing  now?  Is  it  not  meet, 
Azrikam  ?  ’  ’ 

Azrikam  answered,  “It  is  meet,  Perek.  Begin,  therefore,  youth, 
thyself,  and  tell  us  the  reason  why  the  Lord  our  God  is  better  than 
all  other  gods  unto  thee.” 

But  Perek  (whose  name  meant  “Harshness”)  came  before  the 
young  man,  and  hindered  his  speaking,  and  said  unto  him:  “See, 
I  will  set  thee  an  ensample,  whereby  thou  shalt  possibly  come  to 
understand  the  way  in  which  thou  shalt  speak.  For  behold,  thou 
art  very  young,  but  I  have  experience. — And  this,  then,  is  the  reason 
why  the  Lord  our  God  is  best,  and  why  we  would  have  Him  in  the 
stead  of  all  other  gods.  It  is  for  this,  that  the  Lord  is  severe.  He 
letteth  no  sinner  escape.  Behold  He  dwelleth  in  the  sea,  and  on  the 


74 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


land,  and  on  the  tops  of  the  mighty  mountains.  His  finger  entereth 
the  caves,  and  draggeth  the  sinner  thence.  Who  shall  escape  the  hand 
of  the  Lord?  His  lips  utter  destruction,  and  none  shall  get  away. 
Selah !  ’  ’ 

Then  said  still  a  larger  man  with  yet  a  mightier  beard  (and  he 
lay  in  a  flaming  garment,  but  that  of  the  man  that  had  spoken  was 
black)  said  he,  in  a  voice  of  thunder:  “I  am  not  accustomed — I 
mean  to  speak — I  am  not — I  will  only  say  unto  you  all  that  the  Lord 
is  mighty — is  very  mighty — I  will  say  that  I  honor  the  Lord  because 
of  His  might — He — for  this  it  is  I  have  Him  before  all  the  gods  of 
the  Egyptians,  and  before  all  the  gods  of  the  Petrans,  and  before 
all  those  of  the  Canaanites,  and  before  all  others  of  any  place  or 
time.  He  is  mightier  than — dare  I  say  in  this  presence — in  these 
presences — He  is  from  everlasting  unto  everlasting.  It  is  not  that 
He  is  severe,  0  Perek,  thou  whose  very  name  doth  signify  ‘Harsh¬ 
ness.  ’  It  is  because  He  is  mighty.  For  this  it  is  that  I  honor  Him.  ’  ’ 

Then  said  another,  “Not  that  the  Lord  is  severe,  0  brethren,  or 
yet  mighty,  do  I  honor  the  Lord,  but  for  this,  that  He  is  surely  the 
fountain  of  knowledge.  They  that  study  thee  not,  0  Source  of  All 
Knowing,  they  are  ignorant  men  and  like  wild  beasts.  They  may  sit 
at  the  doors  of  temples,  and  wear  long  beards,  but  behold!  They 
lay  themselves  in  the  dust,  and  have  known  nothing,  and  it  is  be¬ 
cause  they  have  never  known  Thee.  Is  it  not  so,  Father  Azrikam?” 

“It  is  so,”  said  Azrikam,  “but  chiefly  the  Greeks — ” 

Then  brake  in  a  little  shrill-voiced,  ape-like  elder  in  a  robe  of 
purple.  He  said — so  loudly  that  all  the  slaves  pricked  up  their  ears : 
“Lo,  it  is  not  for  His  knowledge  that  I  honor  the  Lord,  but  for  this, 
that  the  Lord  is  very  beautiful.”  He  smacked  his  baboon  lips,  and 
said  again:  “He  is  very  beautiful.  The  stars  of  the  firmament  are 
naught  before  His  beauty,  nor  the  moon  nor  the  sun.  There  is  nothing 
at  all  like  unto  the  Lord  for  beauty.” 

Azrikam  laughed.  “Thou  shouldst  have  been  a  Greek.” 

But  Perek,  without  laughing,  added:  “Yea,  and  a  condemned 
worshipper  of  Apollo.” 

The  man  who  had  spoken  the  judgment  declared  the  more  strongly, 
“I  worship  the  Lord  for  His  beauty,  for  this  alone.” 

“Beauty?”  cried  another,  who  lay  in  a  motley  garment,  and  was 
all  fatness  and ‘hunger.  “  ‘ Beauty ’  dost  thou  say?  Let  be.  I  will 
speak  the  truth,  and  not  lie.  I  worship  the  Lord  because  of  His 
temporal  blessings.  I  have  not  said  pleasant  things,  brethren,  even 
as  ye  have,  nor  pretended  to  be  solely  in  love  with  higher  matters. 
But  lo !  I  am  not  a  hypocrite.  ’  ’ 


THE  FAILURE 


75 


He  would  have  said  more,  but  a  man  brake  in:  “The  Lord  is 
a  help  to  all  His  creatures.  For  this  I  worship  Him.  Whenever  I 
think  of  Him,  I  seem  to  behold  a  hand  reaching  down  from  a  cloud. 
Selah.  I  have  spoken.  ” 

“ Spoken  and  said  much ! ”  cried  another.  “Yet  not  all.  Helpful 
He  is,  of  that  there  can  be  no  question.  But  helpful  unto  whom? 
Unto  the  children  of  Israel.  Yea  Lord,  thou  forgettest  not  thy  prom¬ 
ises,  which  were  made  to  Abraham.” 

‘  ‘  Hath  he  not  indeed  forgotten  ?  ’  ’  cried  a  surly  voice  at  the  farthest 
of  the  tables.  “Hath  He  not  forgotten?  The  Lord  is  indeed  El- 
Shaddai.  There  is  nothing  that  is  beyond  Him.  But  let  no  troubler 
of  that  fountain,  Truth,  declare  that  the  Lord  remembereth  His  people. 
He  doth  not  remember  them.  Llave  I  said  He  hath  no  cause  for  His 
forgetting  ?  He  hath  a  cause.  But  He  remembereth  them  not.  Lo ! 
day  and  night  is  Israel  buffeted  about.  The  hand  of  the  Roman  is 
against  him,  and  the  fingers  of  all  the  Gentiles,  on  the  right  hand 
and  on  the  left,  be  pointed  in  His  very  face.  The  Lord,  I  say,  hath 
forgotten.  He  is  mighty.  He  is  beautiful.  He  is  the  Fountain  of 
all  Knowledge,  yea  and  much  more  also — for  all  things  come  from 
Him.  But  He  is,  moreover,  severe — ” 

“For  that,”  brake  in  Perek  again,  “I  said  that  I  adore  Him, 
and  hold  Him  as  better  than  any  other  god.  He  knoweth  to  punish, 
and  to  keep  His  fingers  in  His  ears.  Selah.” 

For  a  time  there  was  silence. 

Azrikam,  thereupon,  said  to  Samson:  “And  thou,  0  priest — - 
thou  Samson-Solomon  of  far  Pentapolis — thou  priest  of  priests,  being 
priest  of  the  course  of  Jedaiah,  thou  hast  not  yet  spoken.  Speak, 
therefore,  and  say  unto  us,  not  fearing  because  of  thy  youth,  the 
meaning  which  the  Lord  hath  for  thee,  and  the  reasons  for  the  which 
thou  worshippest  Him.” 

Then  cried  Samson-Solomon,  as  it  were  with  a  deep  groan, 
“Adonai!”  He  could  get  no  further. 

He  sought  once  more  to  speak,  and  once  again  cried  out : 
“Adonai!”  And  yet  again  he  could  get  no  further. 

Then  once  more  there  was  much  silence  in  the  great  hall.  The 
soft-footed  throng  of  slaves  shuffled  and  padded  from  table  to  table, 
and  at  times  there  was  heard  the  splashing  of  a  silvern  fountain  in 
the  distant  atrium. 

And  Samson  remembered  the  sounds  of  the  laughing  waters  by  the 
which  he  had  pastured  his  beloved  sheep.  The  sights  of  the  pastures 
rose  again  before  him,  and  he  remembered  Adonai  once  more,  and 
all  the  thoughts  and  feelings  which  he  had  had  as  concerning  Adonai. 


76 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


Then  said  he  unto  all  these  holy  men,  “Ye  are  much  wiser  than 
I,  0  Fathers.  And  ye — I  know  this  only,  that  I  do  love  the  Lord. 
0  Adonai,  Adonai,  but  I  have  ever  loved  thee !  ’  ’  And  he  brake  forth 
into  words  of  such  high  praise  and  sweet  affection  for  Adonai,  Adonai 
the  comrade  of  his  all  too  lonesome  hours,  that  the  company  ceased 
to  whisper  and  to  stir,  believing  it  listened  only  to  the  music  of  a 
wonderful  harp.  Then  brake  Samson-Solomon  suddenly  off,  as  had 
he  remembered  a  thing  better  not  declared  to  the  elders. 

The  sweet,  grave  Azrikam,  after  a  time  of  waiting,  said  unto 
him :  “Ah,  my  son,  my  son  !  Thou  hast  given  in  this  matter  a  rebuke 
to  us  all.  For  thou  art  like  Father  Abraham,  who  was,  as  it  is 
written,  The  Friend  of  Elohim.” 

“I  would  be  His  friend,”  said  Solomon. 

“But  sometimes  I  think  that  the  Lord  is  very  far  away  from  me, 
that  I  never  shall  behold  Him  at  all.  Then  I  seek  to  forget  Him. 
But  lo!  I  cannot  do  so,  but  love  Him  the  more.  Yet  I  would  He 
were  not  in  a  cloud,  or  dissolved  in  the  invisible  mist,  or  hidden 
beneath  the  rocks  which  build  the  foundations  of  the  great  earth. 
Oh  that  He  might  come  forth,  that  He  might  stand  beside  me  or 
before  me,  that  He  might  speak,  not  in  the  thunderous  voice,  but  in 
His  own  very  words,  and  stretch  forth  unto  me  His  own  right  hand.  ’  ’ 

Said  Amittai,  who  was  nicknamed  the  Benjaminite:  “The  voice 
of  the  Lord  is  a  still  voice.  Believest  thou  that  thou  couldst  hear 
it,  that  thou  couldst  perceive  it  even  as  the  words  which  now  do  fall 
from  off  my  lips?  ‘There  is  no  voice  nor  sound,  yet  the  instruction 
goeth  forth  to  all  the  world.’  Nor  doth  He  take  thee  by  thy  hand, 
and  press  His  lips  unto  thine  even  as  the  lips  of  Azrikam  were  lately 
pressed.  But  thou  shalt  know  Him  in  thy  heart  of  hearts,  and  not 
by  any  outward  pressure.  Lo !  it  is  in  thy  heart  that  He  cometh  unto 
thee,  lieth  beside  thy  table,  speaketh  a  kindly  word,  and  drinketh 
from  out  thy  cup.  Selah.  I  have  spoken.” 

“I  would  see  Him  more  plainly,”  said  Solomon.  “I  seek  Him 
not  only  in  the  synagogue,  but  also  in  the  folds  and  the  fields.  Yet, 
though  I  know  of  His  blessings,  I  have  not  altogether  found  the  Lord 
himself.  Sometimes  I  seem  to  remember  when  I  knew  Him  like  a 
friend ;  then,  once  more,  it  seems  I  never  have  known  Him  at  all. 
Ah !  that  life  is  poor  indeed  wherein  we  know  Adonai  but  by  fits  and 
starts — like  the  wind  that  leapeth  gustfully  when  summer  is  verging 
into  winter,  and  the  grasses  are  growing  brown  in  all  the  fields. 

“I  could  say,  sometimes:  ‘How  blessed  it  were  to  die  if  only 
I  might  then  see  God.’  But  behold,  I  do  not  wish  to  die,  and  yet 
I  wish  that  these  mine  eyes  might  be  laid  upon  Adonai. 


THE  FAILURE 


77 


“The  Lord  went  before  me  down  the  dry  bed  of  the  mountain 
torrent,  yet  I  saw  Him  not.  He  led  me  along  the  sweet  springs  of 
rivers  where  the  wild  grasses  grew,  and  yet  He  showed  me  not  him¬ 
self.  Yea,  He  took  me  in  the  hollow  of  His  hand,  but  still  was  neither 
before  me  nor  after.  But  that  was  because  that  He  was  everywhere : 
hence  did  I  see  Him  not.  But  I  loved  Him.  0  grave  and  venerable 
fathers,  I  loved  Him.  This  one  thing  I  only  know — I  loved  Him. 
And  He  was  my  friend.  ” 

So  spake  Samson-Solomon  of  Cyrene,  and  his  eyes  grew  dark  and 
wide  with  mystery  unspoken.  Then  he  said  further,  “I  have  looked 
for  Adonai  beneath  the  rocks,  and  up  into  the  towers,  and  on  to  the 
clouds  and  the  mountain  tops  and  sky.  Yet  was  He  nowhere  to  be 
seen.  Then  I  have  looked  the  harder  for  Him,  and  have  listened 
also.  I  have  heard  the  sheep  bleat,  the  goats  cry,  and  the  eagles 
scream.  I  have  hearkened  to  the  winds  at  noonday  and  at  midnight, 
the  pattering  of  rain  upon  the  grass,  and  the  hoarse  moanings  of 
the  swollen  brooks.  Yet  never  did  I  either  see  or  hear  Adonai.  I 
will  look  and  I  will  listen  again.” 

Then  it  was  the  sweet,  reverend  Azrikam  (and  not  Perek,  or  any 
of  the  other  elders)  which  understanded  the  heart  of  the  lover  of 
Adonai,  and  all  its  dangers.  Said  he  unto  the  boy,  “My  son,  0 
my  son !  ’ 9 

But  Perek  looked  up  quickly, and  complained  unto  Azrikam,  say¬ 
ing:  “Why  dost  thou  reprove?  I  see  no  matter  of  reproof  in  all 
this,  but  am  greatly  edified.” 

“I  too  am  edified,”  said  Azrikam,  “and  yet —  What  wouldst  thou, 
Justitia?”  (For  that  stern,  if  beautiful,  servant  had  entered  the 
room.)  But  hardly  had  she  started  to  speak,  when  another  and 
even  elder  slave  that  sate  in  the  distant  atrium  by  the  side  of  the 
ever-hastening  water-clock,  brake  in  upon  her,  crying:  “Yigilia 
prima!  The  night  is  young!  Yet  early,  as  well  as  late,  let  all  men 
dream  of  Adonai !  ’  ’ 

Said  Justitia,  with  a  less  angry  brow  than  that  she  had  entered 
the  room  withal:  “0  Master,  seest  thou  here  thy  servant,  even  the 
trifling  Deformatus,  he  that  is  ever  a  maker  of  mischief?” 

“Yea,”  saith  Azrikam.  “What  hath  he  done  now?” 

“Stolen,”  said  Justitia,  in  a  calm,  but  inflexible,  voice,  “thy  gleam¬ 
ing  jewels  which  lay  within  thine  innermost  chamber.  Them  did  we 
find  upon  him  as  he  slept.  And  when  he  awakened  and  discovered 
them  gone,  he  crept  in  here,  where  he  hath  listened  unto  the  young 
Jew — awaiting,  like  ourselves,  a  pause  wherein  he  might  speak  unto 
thee,  but  he  for  pardon  and  with  lies,  we  for  his  condign  punishment 


78 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


and  with  the  solemn  truth  alone.  Hast  thou,  0  Master,  given  thine 
innermost  jewels  to  Def ormatus  ? ’ ’ 

Said  Azrikam  unto  the  despicable  thief:  “Hast  thou  stolen  those 
things?  Offered  not  I  thy  freedom  unto  thee  ten  years  gone,  and 
would  gladly  have  had  thee  out  of  my  house?  And  didst  thou  not 
insist  that  thine  ear  should  be  placed  against  the  pillar  of  my  doorway 
and  a  hole  bored  through  the  lobe  thereof,  in  token  thou  wouldst  stay 
with  me  forever,  and  wouldst  not  away?  Answer  me.” 

Def  ormatus  answered  him,  and  said :  “I  came  in  hither,  0  Master, 
with  a  strange  defense  and  web  of  many  lies.  If  the  worst  did  come 
to  the  worst,  I  meant  to  inquire  of  thee  a  definition  of  the  thing  which 
men  call  ‘stealing,’  thus,  if  I  could,  to  trip  thee  up  with  subtle  dis¬ 
tinctions,  fine  subdivisions,  numerous  groupings  and  split-haired  classi¬ 
fications.  But  behold,  the  youth  from  Cyrenaica  was  speaking  of 
Adonai.  And  now  I  would  not  even  attempt  to  deceive  thee.  For, 
from  him,  Samson-Solomon,  I  have  learned  to  love  the  Lord.  And 
now  it  seemeth  that  the  only  thing  I  can  say  in  my  defence  is  this, 
that  I  am  deformed  and  helpless  in  my  soul,  as  well  as  in  my  flesh. 
For  even  as  mine  arms  and  legs  are  terribly  distorted  from  birth,  and 
my  nose  and  lips  be  drawn  thus  fearfully  awry,  so  also  it  may  be  in 
my  spirit.  Who  knoweth,  Master  ?  Here  be  all  thy  gems.  ’  ’  He  laid 
them  down. 

Now  Azrikam  took  not  the  stones,  but  gazed  long  on  the  terrible 
form  of  the  man.  At  length  said  he,  “First,  I  pardon  thee,  0 
Brother.”  Then,  unto  Justitia:  “Send  hither  at  once  the  surgeon 
of  my  house.” 

But  Justitia  cried  in  a  rage:  “It  is  not  just,  Master.  It  is  not  at 
all  just,  thy  harmful  pardoning.  Nor  can  any  surgeon  help  thee  here 
at  all  in  the  case  of  a  person  so  detestable  and  perverted  as  Deforma- 
tus.  By  all  the  gods,  I  say  I  will  not  have  it  so.  ’  ’ 

But  Azrikam  coolly  considered  her.  “Stand  thou  yonder,  Justitia, 
across  the  table  from  me,  and  listen  with  full  intent  unto  all  that  I 
shall  say  to  thee.  Art  thou  a  servant  here,  or  art  thou  ruler 
of  the  establishment?  Wilt  thou  domineer,  or  wilt  thou,  on  the  other 
hand,  obey?  If  not  obey,  then  thou  too  art  criminal,  in  like  manner 
as  Defonnatus  is,  but  worse.  For  thou  hast  not  any  excuse. 

“But  behold,  0  all  ye  that  lie  about  the  tables  and  are  rich  and 
wise !  I,  even  Azrikam,  the  ruler  of  this  house,  am  worse  even  than 
Deformatus  and  Justitia  combined.  For  behold,  I  have  permitted 
this  poor  young  man  to  grow  thus  distorted  up  in  mine  own  home. 
Had  I  done  my  duty  unto  him,  this  had  not  been  so.  Nay,  young 
man,  it  had  not  so  been. 


THE  FAILURE 


79 


“But  the  man  shall  nnto  the  surgeon.  And  the  surgeon  shall 
use  his  knife,  and  shall  straighten  the  bones  and  the  lips  and  the 
nose.  And  all  the  poor  distorted  features  they  shall  be  straight. 

“And  when  the  surgeon  hath  done  all  his  work,  and  the  flesh  of 
the  man  is  well  to  look  upon,  then  shall  we  have  seen  that  his  soul, 
possessing  no  longer  any  bitterness,  shall  have  an  opportunity  fo*' 
its  straight  growth.’ ’ 

Said  Deformatus,  “I  will  tell  thee  another  thing. — Wait  thou, 
O  surgeon. — It  was,  in  fact,  Ophidion  who  seduced  me  to  steal  thy 
gems.  He  also  said  unto  me  that  soon  there  would  come  to  thy  house 
a  young  man  named  Samson-Solomon,  whose  locket  he  much  desired. 
I  was  to  steal  the  locket,  receiving  in  return  for  it  a  great  reward. 
4 For,’  said  the  man  of  lies,  ‘the  locket,  in  any  case,  is  mine.’  And 
for  all  my  crimes  Ophidion  promised  me  mighty  protection,  having, 
as  he  said,  great  influence  with  the  authorities.” 

But  Azrikam  gave  Deformatus  a  bright  jewel. 

And  the  man  wept  and  departed  with  the  surgeon,  leaving  the 
jewel  behind. 

And  he  that  was  called  Deformatus  was  made  straight  in  his  body 
by  the  surgeon,  and  grew  a  better  man  from  that  hour.  For  he  had 
learned  from  Samson-Solomon  to  love  the  Lord,  and  this  had  begun 
the  straightness  in  him.  On  a  certain  time  he  confessed  Adonai,  be¬ 
coming  thereby  a  proselyte  unto  righteousness.  And  his  name  was 
changed,  and  he  hight  forever  after  Orthus,  or  Straight.  And  gave 
much  help  in  the  world.  Going  into  many  places,  he  taught  that 
salvation  is  of  the  Jews,  and  brought  hundreds  unto  God,  until,  at 
length,  Jehovah,  who  long  had  loved  him  and  supported  him  in 
earthly  tribulations,  reached  forth  and  took  him  home. 

Meanwhile,  saith  Azrikam:  “There  are  things  Justitia  cannot 
understand.  But  Shiloh,  when  He  cometh,  shall  understand  them 
and  shall  teach  us  also.  For  behold,  mercy  may  be  but  a  deeper  jus¬ 
tice.”  He  stood  up. 

The  rest  of  the  company  then  arose,  and,  from  the  great  triclinium 
passed  in  threes  and  twos,  laughing  and  conversing,  into  a  long,  nar¬ 
row,  and  brightly  marbled  passage.  Here  the  attendant  slaves  waited, 
each  upon  his  proper  master,  all  with  smoking  torches  in  their  up¬ 
raised  hands. 

Came  he  which  had  said  that  he  loved  the  Lord  because  of  His 
temporal  blessings,  and  declared  unto  Azrikam:  “Behold  I  have 
been  greatly  budded  up  by  the  sayings  of  this  son  of  thine,  even  Solo¬ 
mon  of  Cyrene.  For  see !  I  was  not  spiritual  enough,  but  dwelt  too 
much  upon  the  things  of  the  belly.”  And  first  one  and  yet  another 


80 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


came  before  Azrikam  and  before  Solomon,  saying:  “Behold  how 
blessed  were  the  words  of  Samson-Solomon  of  Cyrene  as  he  spake  this 
night.’ ’  And  Azrikam,  while  his  young  priest  held  his  head  down¬ 
ward,  in  red  confusion,  smiled  at  the  departing  elders  as  he  were  a 
gentle  prayer.  He  sent  all  out  into  peace — holding  at  the  last  the 
young  man  by  the  arm,  as  though,  perchance,  he  might  somehow  have 
lost  him. 

Then  closed  the  Rabbi  the  outermost  and  the  innermost  door,  and 
took  back  into  the  house  the  young  priest. 

And  when  they  had  come  to  the  water  clock,  then  the  Rabbi  Azri¬ 
kam,  in  his  robe  of  ashen  purple,  stood  facing  Samson-Solomon  of 
Cyrene.  Samson-Solomon,  in  his  garment  of  springtime  green,  with  a 
border  of  gold  about  the  neck,  stood,  bowed  and  listening. 

And  Rabbi  Azrikam,  Archisynagogus  of  the  place,  said  unto  Sam¬ 
son-Solomon  of  far  Cyrene :  “0  my  son,  my  son.  ’  ’ 

And  he  said  yet  again,  ‘  ‘  0  my  son,  my  son !  ’ ’ 

“What,”  asked  Solomon,  “what,  O  Father  and  dear  Teacher,  have 
I  done  that  thou  shouldst  stand  over  against  me,  and  cry  in  a  lamenta¬ 
tion  (which  indeed  breaketh  my  heart)  ‘0  my  son,  my  son’?” 

Azrikam  wept. 

Then  said  he,  “My  son,  be  wise.  Be  ware,  in  especial,  of  that 
Ophidion,  a  ruiner  of  men’s  souls.  Be  ware  also  of  Emah.  Her 
beauty  is  that  of  the  poisonous  flower.  Remember  thy  priesthood. 
Could  aught  say  more?  ‘They  that  are  wise  shall  shine  as  the 
brightness  of  the  firmament,  and  they  that  turn  many  to  righteous¬ 
ness  as  the  stars  for  ever  and  ever.’  Thy  servant,  with  a  candle, 
awaiteth  thee.” 


CHAPTER  X 
A  Finder  of  Temptation 

When  the  morning  was  come,  and  Samson,  arisen,  had  bathed  and 
put  on  fresh  apparel,  then  appeared  at  his  door  the  Rabbi,  bringing 
certain  monies  and  a  little  letter  from  Berith,  which  is  Machashe- 
bethel.  These,  as  he  said,  a  messenger,  the  captain  of  a  ship,  had 
just  delivered  to  him.  “For  the  ships  of  the  sea  and  of  the  river,” 
said  he,  “are  swifter  than  the  horses  of  the  desert.  And  so  thou  hast 
a  letter  already.” 

Samson  took  the  monies  and  the  letter,  brake  the  letter’s  seal  and 
read: 

Amahnah  unto  Samson-Solomon  of  Cyrene,  Greeting: 

Art  thou  well?  If  so,  then  all  is  well. 


THE  FAILURE 


81 


Betah,  that  holy  man,  is  dead.  We  have  wept  long  for  him.  Thou  shalt 
weep  also. 

By  him  I  heard  that  men,  in  the  market  places,  did  say  thou  wast  gone  to 
Crocodilopolis.  We  shall  be  glad  to  see  thee  when  thou  dost  return. 

Meantime,  I  look  after  thy  sheep. 

I  send  thee  moneys  by  the  Rabbi  Azrikam,  at  whose  house  I  hear  thou 
shalt  abide. 

When  wilt  thou  return  that  we  may  once  more  see  thee? 

Forget  us  not. 

Amahnah. 

And  Samson  lifted  up  his  voice,  and  wept  for  the  former  prophet. 
And  Azrikam,  when  he  had  heard,  made  lamentation  also. 

And  Samson  wrote  an  answer  to  Amahnah ’s  letter,  very  delicate 
and  thankful  for  the  things  she  had  done.  And  delivered  it  unto 
Azrikam. 

But,  even  as  he  wrote,  he  thought  not  of  Amahnah  but  of  Emah. 

For  behold,  in  a  single  night,  there  are  many  things  that  may  ripen 
in  a  young  man’s  mind.  And  there  came  to  the  recollection  of  this 
young  man  certain  caterpillars,  which,  in  the  folds  of  Cyrenaica,  he 
had  known  of  an  evening,  underneath  a  rock,  to  fall  asleep  within  a 
drab  cocoon,  and  yet,  when  the  morning  was  arrived,  to  issue  as  things 
of  unspeakable  beauty — scarlet  and  purple  and  green,  and  the  shin- 
ingest  of  gold  and  silver. 

He  said,  “My  love  for  Emah  it  is  like  unto  one  of  these  caterpil¬ 
lars,  for  it  now  hath  burst  its  bondage.  But  behold  I  will  not  gaze 
upon  this  woman  again,  for  I  am  a  priest  of  J ehovah,  and  shall  surely 
teach  a  lesson  to  the  world.” 

But  the  Rabbi,  or  ere  the  young  man  went  out  into  the  street,  em¬ 
braced  him  and  wept  over  him,  saying  again  and  yet  again :  *  ‘  Thy 
strength — thy  weakness.  ’ 9 

At  long  length  he  let  the  young  man  go,  for  Samson  said  that  he 
wished  to  see  Lampadephorus,  then  to  return  unto  Amahnah. 

And  as  Samson  passed  along,  he  gave  great  alms  and  was  high 
compassionate  unto  many,  even  unto  them  that  had  by  their  own 
countrymen  been  neglected.  For  such  was  the  use  and  custom  of  his 
people  everywhere,  in  whatsoever  land  or  nation  they  might  be  so¬ 
journing. 

He  went  to  a  temple  school,  whereof  Lampadephorus  had  spoken. 
But  Lampadephorus  he  found  not.  Returning  to  the  street,  he  be¬ 
lieved  he  glimpsed  Ophidion.  But  the  form,  caught  in  a  hurrying 
multitude,  was  swept  from  view. 

By  now,  having  come  to  the  Street  of  the  Sun  and  the  Moon,  Sam¬ 
son  turned  off  northward,  seeking  if  he  might  not  in  that  wise  reach 

to  the  docks,  and  so  find  Trivialis.  For  he  still  desired,  because  of 

6 


82 


SIMON  OF  GYRENE 


Lampadephorus,  to  lay  heavy  hands  upon  that  man.  But  all  about 
Samson  was  now  even  a  greater  rushing  to  and  fro.  And  somewhat 
stirred  within  him  which  he  could  not  understand,  a  yearning  hidden 
in  a  thick  cloud.  This  he  had  ofttimes  felt  before  in  the  sheepfolds, 
when  the  mysterious  angling  caravans  went  by,  either  to  or  from  the 
city,  laden  with  who  could  say  what  wondrous  merchandise.  But  now 
the  yearning  had  grown.  And  it  filled  him  later  with  a  very  great 
sadness. 

When  he  had  reached  the  quays,  an  enormous  galley  was  just  set¬ 
ting  out  for  Rome,  filled  to  the  brim  with  beasts  for  Caesar ’s  amphi¬ 
theatre.  Another  was  coming  down  the  current — a  trireme,  man-of- 
war.  Slowly  the  three  long  banks  of  rhythmic  oars,  moved  by  as  many 
tiers  of  slaves,  whose  faces  passed  the  portholes  silently,  rose  up  and 
fell  again,  while  clear  and  strong  within  the  vessel’s  sides,  sounded 
the  deep  voice  of  the  hortator  and  his  heavy  mallet.  A  pleasure  galley 
slid  out  of  a  basin  and  on  into  the  Nile.  How  her  painted  sails  glided 
above  the  flat  roofs  of  the  houses ! 

Samson  went  to  a  spot  where  the  captains  of  many  ships  did  con¬ 
gregate,  for  he  had  not  been  wholly  satisfied  with  the  message  of 
Lampadephorus.  Here  he  asked  concerning  Trivialis.  One  among 
them,  which  had  come  from  Apollonia,  said:  “Trivialis?  Trivialis? 
Yea,  I  do  remember  such  an  one.  He  shipped  at  Apollonia,  and  hath 
gone  on  now  to  Joppa.” 

Samson  inquireth  of  another  (not  being  able  to  believe  so  much  as 
these  words),  and  that  other  said  also:  “He  is  gone  to  Joppa.” 

Then  said  Samson  in  his  heart,  turning  with  intent  to  go  back  to 
the  Rabbi  Azrikam’s  house:  “I  will  follow.  I  will  go  to  Joppa.” 

“Thou  art  wholly  right,”  said  a  whisper  at  his  ear. 

Turning  yet  again,  he  beheld  the  serpent-man,  Ophidion. 

“How  knewest  thou?” 

“I  read  thy  thoughts.” 

1  ‘  Perchance  thou  art  a  prophet.  Tell  me,  therefore,  if  thou  canst, 
shall  it  ever  come  to  pass  that  I  shall  slay  mine  enemy  ?  ’  ’ 

“He  shall  die  within  thine  arms,  but  not  at  Joppa.” 

“Yet  to  Joppa  I  will  follow  him.  But  tell  me  also  where  I  may 
find  the  woman,  Emah,  she  that  is  yet  more  beautiful  even  than  Amah- 
nah  is.” 

“I  have  seen  no  woman  named  Emah.” 

“Nay,  but  thou  knowest  her  well.  Thou  didst  take  me  unto  her 
yesterday.  Her  name — Emah —  Thou  saidst — thou  didst  promise 


me — 


THE  FAILURE 


83 


“Yea,  I  do  remember  now.  She  awaiteth  at  yonder  quay.”  And 
he  saw  a  man  passing,  and  turned  and  went  after  him. 

CHAPTER  XI 
E  MAH 

But  Samson  went  down  to  the  quay. 

Now  the  boat  of  Emah  was  a  marvel  of  colors  and  gold.  There 
were  broad  purple  sails  and  bright  bordered  screens,  and  scarlet 
streamers  flying  from  the  rudder-pole  and  from  the  masts.  Above 
the  prow  ran  out  a  golden  crocodile  over  the  water,  while,  just  below, 
at  the  vessel’s  side,  the  gleaming  eye  of  Osiris  stared  perpetually  with 
seductive  meaning. 

And  the  woman,  when  she  beheld  Samson,  came  unto  him  with 
outstretched  arms,  looking  in  his  eyes  most  steadfastly.  Said  she, 
“Am  I  beautiful?” 

He  declared,  trembling:  “Thou  art  beauty  itself.” 

She  led  him  with  her.  And  she  asked:  “Art  thou  alive,  0  priest 
of  Adonai,  and  is  it  good  to  live?” 

“It  is  good,”  said  the  boy,  “to  live. — Wherever  thou  art,  all  is 
good.” 

“Embark,”  said  she.  As  they  entered  the  ship,  it  began,  though 
imperceptibly,  to  glide  away. 

She  brought  him  to  the  prow,  while  a  soft,  diaphanous  music 
sounded,  wherethrough  there  appeared,  as  he  thought,  the  inmost 
imagery  of  the  woman’s  soul.  She,  turning  with  a  beautiful  gesture 
and  extending  a  seductive  arm  in  the  direction  of  the  East,  chanted : 
“In  yonder  innumerable  mounts  are  countless  millions.  All  are  dead. 
They  were  once  as  thou  and  I  are.  But  now  they  feel  not  the  sun. 
The  touch  of  the  Etesian  winds,  it  also  is  as  nothing  to  them.  Thou 
and  I,  we — still — live.  Each  moment  of  today  is  priceless  with  the 
infinite  longing  of  our  souls,  if  thou  dost  really  live — and  love.  Tell 
me,  dost  thou  live  ?  ’  ’ 

“In  the  presence  of  thee,  0  spirit  of  the  Nile,”  said  Samson-Solo- 
mon,  ‘  ‘  my  soul  is  as  a  living  fire.  ’  ’ 

And  she  took  him  and  led  him  (all  the  while  by  a  music  like  unto 
a  sweetly  secret  thing)  to  a  place  where  the  light  reddened  under  bil¬ 
lowing  sails.  And  there  she  gave  him  to  a  couch  that  was  as  a  sum¬ 
mer  ’s  cloud-bank  for  the  softness  and  the  ease  of  it.  She  knelt  beside 
him,  and  nestled  her  dark  head  in  his  bosom. 

Then  she  rose,  and,  standing  above  him,  gave  friendly  command. 


84 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


Luxurious  forms  came  out  of  the  curtained  and  betasselled  spaces,  and 
danced  before  them. 

He  leaped  to  his  feet,  crying  aloud:  “Adonai!  Amahnah!” 

But  the  Egyptian  took  him,  and  held  him  by  the  firmness  of  her 
will  and  the  softness  of  her  bosom,  laughing  and  saying :  “Not  Amah- 
nah,  but  Emah.  Art  thou  affrighted,  lovely  boy,  and  only  by  a  danc¬ 
ing  ?  See !  we  are  moving  in  the  way  to  happiness,  and  we  shall  go  on 
farther,  even  unto  wisdom/  ’ 

So  they  took  the  couch  again. 

And  they  moved  along  the  Nile,  which  was  full  of  sweet  dreams. 
Samson  heard  the  boatmen  in  their  shallow  vessels,  singing  as  they 
passed :  ‘  ‘  Guard  us  from  all  evil,  0  great  Osiris,  guard  us  from  the 
snares  of  Set.”  And  again,  “It  is  merely  by  his  own  strength  that 
a  giant  can  be  thrown/’ 

And  because  of  the  sweetness  of  the  singing  a  tear  stole  down  the 
painted  cheek  of  the  priestess  Emah.  The  man  who  was  priest  of  all 
purity  kissed  the  tear  away. 

They  twain  lay  in  silence  for  a  time,  Samson  that  he  might  not 
wake  out  of  happiness,  the  woman  for  that  she  beheld  the  lad  would 
have  it  so. 

And  she  plainly  remembered,  as  thus  she  lay,  the  words  which 
Ophidion  had  pronounced  unto  her:  “Hold  him  with  thy  beauty  and 
with  thy  will.  He  is  young— thou  canst  so  hold  him.  Tempt  him! 
Tempt  him  with  thy  great  beauty.  The  charm  of  the  eye  especially 
remember.  Keep  thy  lascivious  orbs  upon  his,  and  let  the  lightnings 
of  thy  will  flash  through  them.  His  own  will  lull  into  soft  slumber. 
But  his  fearful  passions  arouse.  So  shall  we  ensnare  the  foolish  one. 
So  shall  we  come  by  the  locket  and  the  precious  signs  of  his  hated 
priesthood.  ’ 9  As  she  mused,  she  murmured  gently :  ‘  ‘  Ophidion.  ’ 9 

Cried  the  J ew,  ‘  ‘  Thoughtest  thou  also  of  Ophidion  ? 9  9 

“I  thought  of  him/’  said  Emah. 

‘ ‘  He  is  a  secret  and  a  mighty  being, 9  9  went  on  the  J  ew. 

“He  is  a  strange,  strong  man,”  declared  Emah.  “Death  itself 
could  never  conquer  him.  And  because  of  his  strength  there  are  those 
which  deeply  love  him — but  not  I,  not  I.  ’ 9 

“As  for  me,  I  hate  him,”  said  the  Jew.  “When  first  I  saw  him 
by  the  temple  in  Jupiter  Ammon,  I  did  hate  him  wholly  (as  he  me 
also)  and  all  my  hatred  has  increased  tenfold  each  day.  Yet,  too,  he 
it  was  that  brought  me  unto  thee.” 

“Hast  thou  not  the  evil  eye?”  inquired  suddenly  the  priestess. 
“Thou  hast  surely  bewitched  me,  lovely  man.  As  for  Ophidion,  may 
he  be  ground  like  paint.” 


THE  FAILURE 


85 


And  while  they  were  fanned  by  the  wings  of  peacocks,  and  sprin¬ 
kled  with  perfumes  made  of  olden  dreams,  and  while  marvelous  apes 
and  women  shook  life  and  laughter  all  about  the  deck,  Samson  spake 
from  time  to  time  unto  the  woman  about  Adonai,  for  his  heart,  even 
yet,  was  filled  with  the  love  of  the  Lord.  “Day  and  night,’ ’  quoth 
he,  “I  loved  Adonai.  Yea  in  the  solitudes  among  the  bleating  sheep, 
O  beautiful  Egyptian,  I — loved — Him.  Often,  at  night,  as  I  lay  sleep¬ 
ing,  I  dreamed  of  Adonai,  and  woke  up  calling  His  name — Adonai, 
Adonai!”  Thus,  wholly  in  spite  of  himself,  befitting  neither  place 
nor  time,  spake  Samson-Solomon  of  Cyrene,  about  Adonai. 

And  Emah  marvelled  and  was  touched,  for  she,  like  many  another 
idolater,  wot  well  about  Adonai,  but,  stiff -neckedly,  clung  to  her  idols. 
Yea,  even  her  name',  meant  it  not  “a  horror  of  the  beasts  which  are 
worshipped”  ? 

And  Samson,  growing  bolder  as  he  saw  that  the  woman  was  listen¬ 
ing,  said:  “Ye  priests  and  priestesses  of  Egypt,  ye  do  know  the 
truth,  but,  caring  not  therefor,  will  not  teach  it.  Ye  do  have  knowl¬ 
edge  concerning  El-Shaddai,  and  yet  ye  do  allow  your  peoples  to  dwell 
both  in  idolatry  and  in  darkness.” 

“Be  thou  not  too  strait  with  us,  lovely  boy,”  said  Emah,  “for 
Moses  himself  did  draw  much  knowledge  of  El-Shaddai  from  the 
priests  of  Egypt.  ’  ’  And  the  woman  went  on  to  explain  unto  Samson 
the  Egyptian  worship  of  the  beasts  of  the  field,  and  of  the  birds  of  the 
air,  and  of  the  creeping  reptiles  of  the  ooze  and  slime.  She  said,  at 
length:  “Seest  thou  not  that  ours  is  really  one  with  thine  own  reli¬ 
gion  ?  The  beasts  and  the  birds  and  the  snakes  are,  after  all,  but  em¬ 
blems  of  the  various  attributes  of  thine  own  Adonai.  So  that  our 
beasts  and  our  birds  and  our  reptiles,  if  considered  altogether,  are 
exactly  the  same  as  is  He  whose  proper  name  thou  fearest  to  pro¬ 
nounce,  and  whom,  in  fact,  we  worship  as  truly  as  do  ye  Israelites.” 

Samson  thereupon  was  much  affected,  for  that  he  saw  in  these  em¬ 
blems  a  certain  way  to  comprehend  and  grasp  Adonai.  Yet  he  would 
have  answered  her,  “  So  do  all  idolatries  except  the  basest,  for  the  gist 
of  idolatry  is  not  unbelief,  but  the  coming  of  any  kind  of  thing  be¬ 
twixt  Elohim  and  the  worshipper,  on  which  kind  of  thing  indeed  the 
mind  of  the  worshipper  is  brought  to  rest,  so  that  Elohim  is  forgot¬ 
ten,  and  then — there  is  known  what  follows.” 

But  the  woman  feared  his  answer,  and  would  not  let  him  speak. 
Holding  a  perfumed  hand  over  his  lips,  she  was  thinking:  “Would 
that  I  were  as  this  Jew  is,  yet  not  so  easily  misled.”  Unto  the  Jew 
aloud:  “Speak  to  me  not  of  Adonai  now,  but  of  thyself  only.” 

Then  told  her  Samson  all  about  the  Chazzan,  and  the  synagogue, 


86 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


and  even  about  Amahnah,  “the  Child  of  God, ”  and  concerning  his 
captivity,  in  earliest  years,  by  the  hand  of  the  King  of  the  South,  of 
his  return  by  Betah,  his  quarrel  with  the  mongrel-mocker,  Trivialis, 
his  swift  flight,  his  dream  in  his  father’s  tomb.  “And  the  Lord  said 
unto  me,  ’  ’  continued  Samson,  ‘ 1  1  Thou  shalt  serve  me  as  a  lofty  statue, 
for  I  know  thy  toughness  and  thy  strength.  And  behold  I  will  chisel 
thee  twice,  the  first  time  roughly  and  the  second  exceeding  fine.  And 
when  I  have  no  further  need  of  thee,  I  will  break  thee — and  yet  keep 
thee.’  ” 

The  woman  wept,  not  this  time  as  an  hypocrite,  but  for  that  she 
saw  the  Jew  could  not  speak  of  himself  save  as  he  spake  of  Adonai. 
Her  conscience  was  wounded  sore.  Said  she  to  herself,  “My  people, 
Adonai,  have  wandered  far  from  thee,  but  the  J ews  are  thy  peculiar 
children  and  preach  of  thee  in  words  of  fire  both  day  and  night.’ ’ 
And  Samson  kissed  her  not,  this  time,  spite  of  her  great  weeping,  but 
continued  to  chant  of  Adonai.  “Nothing,”  said  he,  as  in  a  great 
dream,  “should  come  between  us  and  Adonai.” 

The  woman  interrupted  him.  Pointing,  she  said:  “See!  on  yon¬ 
der  bank !  The  Sphinx !  I  remember — years  ago — I  had  gone  to  the 
Sphinx  to  rest,  to  gaze  within  its  inscrutable  eyes,  if  haply  I  might 
find  therein  an  answer  to  vexing  problems. 

“But  there  stood  at  the  foot  of  the  Sphinx  a  man  from  Nazareth 
of  Galilee  called  Joseph,  and  Mary  his  wife.  In  the  hollow  of  the 
Sphinx’s  paws,  they  twain  had  set  their  only  child.  His  name  (said 
the  father  unto  me)  was  ‘  Joshua,  ’  or  ‘Jesus,’  for  He  should  save  His 
people  from  their  sins,  also  ‘  Immanuel,  ’  which  meaneth  4  God  with  us.  ’ 

“And  Herod  had  sought  to  destroy  the  child,  for  that  certain  wise 
men  had  known  Him  for  the  Messiah.  ’  ’ 

“Messiah!  Tellest  thou  truth?”  cried  Samson. 

She  sware  greatly.  Then  said,  “Therefore  had  Joseph  taken  Him, 
likewise  Mary  His  mother,  and  had  brought  them  down  into  Egypt.  ’  ’ 

Samson  cried,  “Lo!  Adonai,  I  would  that  thou  mightest  let  thy 
servant  see  thee  in  the  flesh.” 

At  this  there  came  a  golden  barge  down  stream  a-passing  them. 
Throned  upon  its  poop  in  glorious  scarlet,  the  snake-like  Ophidion. 

Ophidion  glanced  at  the  priestess  of  Egypt,  and  held  her  with  his 
small,  impenitent  eyes  and  so  passed  in  regal  majesty  and  strange¬ 
ness  of  power. 

Said  Emah,  sorrowing:  “But  that  was  many  years  ago,  and  the 
parents  were  surely  mistaken  as  to  their  babe.  Let  us  not  grieve,  O 
lovely  Jew.  When  Adonai  will  have  us  to  see  Him  in  the  flesh,  will 
He  not  come?  Meanwhile,  drink  and  be  merry,  and  tell  me,  0  man 


THE  FAILURE 


87 


with  the  eyes  of  blessed  dreaming,  if  ever  thou  sawest  a  lovelier  scene 
than  is  on  this  boat? — Let  there  be  bright  music,  and  forget  that, 
in  yonder  cliffs,  the  dead  are  innumerable.  ’ ’ 

The  music  mingled  with  the  sunshine  and  with  the  woman’s  per¬ 
fume.  Adonai  was  forgot. 

And  Email  was  now  one  thing  unto  the  Jew,  now  another :  At  one 
time  languishing,  at  another  self-willed :  at  one  time  seemingly  indif¬ 
ferent  and  cruel  and  yet  again  as  soft  and  tender  as  a  dove.  And  in 
all  her  moods  she  was  very,  very  beautiful. 

She  covered  his  eyes  with  her  hands,  and  attempted  to  reach  the 
locket,  which,  as  she  said,  she  had  heard  was  on  his  breast. 

But  he  held  her  hand,  exclaiming :  ‘  ‘  No  one  shall  touch  the  locket 
save  myself  and  the  High  Priest  in  Jerusalem.” 

She  pouted  and  made  as  if  to  leave  him  for  a  time,  but  anon  came 
back,  more  beautiful  than  ever,  and  with  her  silken  mouth  upturned 
for  innumerable  kisses. 

Said  she  in  her  soul,  “I  shall  have  to  take  thee  to  the  crocodile. 
And  first  I  will  make  thee  bow  before  him  and  kiss  him,  yea  and  wor¬ 
ship  him  also. 

‘  *  And  then  I  will  take  thee  to  the  sacrificial  meats,  and  thou  shalt 
eat  thereof.  And  after  that  the  rest  is  easy.” 

Samson  was  bewildered  with  her  changing  ways,  drunken  with  the 
sweet  lights  of  her  eyes  Delilian.  And  he  only  knew  that,  after  a  time, 
they  twain  had  come  to  a  landing-stage  of  many  glorious  steps,  and 
that  they  went,  by  the  sounds  of  secret  and  seductive  music,  betwixt 
long  files  of  sphinxes,  and  so  to  a  marble  platform,  and  on  and  on  into 
a  bright,  vast  temple,  whose  ceiling  was  like  as  the  sky  for  azure,  and 
set  with  whirling  hosts  of  gleaming  stars. 

And  the  prophet  of  the  temple,  in  a  shining  robe  of  leopard’s  skin, 
came  unto  them,  and  led  them  unto  Sethos,  a  crocodile. 

Its  head  was  decked  with  massive  rings  of  gold,  its  neck  with  neck¬ 
laces,  and  its  feet  with  bracelets.  It  followed  its  keeper  slimily  about. 
And  many  of  the  worshippers  in  the  temple  stooped  down  over  the 
beast  and  kissed  it  on  its  heavy -lidded  eyes. 

Samson,  being  adjured  by  Emah  that  he  also  should  stoop  and  kiss 
the  beast,  thought:  “Oh,  Adonai,  Adonai,  this  is  surely  thou,  not 
thou  indeed  in  thine  entirety  but  in  one  of  thine  innumerable  and  in¬ 
finite  attributes.  ’  ’  And  because  he  regarded  the  beast  as  an  attribute 
of  Adonai  made  into  flesh,  he  stooped — and  he  kissed. 

Then  kissed  the  priestess  him  upon  the  forehead,  thinking:  “My 
beauty  it  is,  and  my  strong  will  also,  which  have  accomplished  these 
things.”  For  she  did  not  understand  the  Jew.  But  unto  the  Jew  she 


88 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


said,  “One  more  thing  is  yet  for  thee  to  accomplish.  Eat  thou  here 
of  the  sacrificial  meats,  which  are  sacred  unto  Sethos.  Then  am  I 
wholly  thine.  Also  the  flesh  of  the  table,  when  thou  hast  eaten  it,  shall 
make  thee  of  Sethos  a  part,  and  thou  wilt  then  have  given  up  Adonai. 
Renounce  thou  Adonai.” 

Saw  suddenly  the  woman  wherein  she  had  erred.  Now  she  at¬ 
tempted  to  rectify  that  error  by  more  lascivious  and  dominating  eyes. 

But  Samson  cried  angrily,  “Renounce  Adonai?  Harlot!  Thou 
hast  said  that,  by  the  way  of  Sethos,  one  might  come  closer  anigh  unto 
Adonai.  And  now  thou  sayest,  ‘  Renounce  Him.  ’  ’  ’ 

The  woman  placed  an  arm  about  his  throat,  but  Samson,  perceiv¬ 
ing  a  noise  behind,  turned  fiercely.  Then  shouted,  as  he  saw  the 
snare:  “Traitors!  Harlot!  Ye  shall  none  have  the  locket !” 

But  the  strong  men  of  the  temple  set  upon  him,  and  he  possessed 
no  weapons. 

He  ran  therefore,  as  he  should  have  run  at  the  beginning,  away 
from  the  sons  and  the  daughters  of  evil,  crying:  “I  have  sinned,  I 
have  sinned!  Yet  did  I  not  wholly  forget  thee,  O  Adonai.” 

He  dashed  to  an  underground  gallery,  leading  he  knew  not  where, 
save  into  darkness. 

And  coming,  in  the  labyrinthine  ways,  on  a  massive  gate  barred 
with  brazen  bars,  he  tore  him  weapons  out  of  the  bars,  and  remember¬ 
ing  the  words  of  Lampadephorus,  how  one,  with  advantage,  could 
fight  with  many  in  the  dark,  he  awaited  the  coming  of  the  strong  men. 

And  later,  the  people  that  were  up  above,  beheld  the  raging  Jew 
come  again  forth,  all  bathed  in  streaming  blood,  and  weapons  of  brass 
in  both  his  wounded  hands. 

And  none  there  was  in  the  temple  which  durst  oppose  him,  even 
for  a  single  step. 

He  ran  therefore  to  the  river  bank,  nor  ceased  to  cry  till  he  had 
got  (by  the  way  of  the  levies)  back  unto  Crocodilopolis :  “Gone, 
gone,  gone!  The  locket,  my  precious  locket,  it  is  forever  lost!  Ac¬ 
cursed  be  idolatry !  Accursed  the  workers  of  iniquity !  Accursed  all 
who  bow  down  unto  beasts  and  unto  stocks  and  unto  stones!  Ac¬ 
cursed  be  ye  all  forevermore,  for  my  locket — it  is  now  Ophidion ’s !  ” 

So  he  went  raging  on,  nor  noticed,  as  he  came  in  view  of  the  house 
of  Azrikam,  that  Lampadephorus,  the  bright-haired  Athenian,  pur¬ 
sued  him  with  laughter  and  joyous  shouts. 

And  Azrikam  stood  just  without  his  own  door. 

Samson  went  and  cast  himself  on  the  ground  at  the  Rabbi’s  feet, 
moaning :  “  Oh  I  have  sinned !  I  have  sinned !  ’  ’ 

“Like  unto  that  other  Solomon!”  laughed  the  Rabbi. 


THE  FAILURE 


89 


“And  my  locket,  it  is  gone — the  locket  and  the  pearls  and  the 
priesthood — all,  all  are  gone  forever !  ’  ’ 

‘ ‘  Not  indeed  forever,  ’  ’  protesteth  the  smiling  Rabbi.  And  he  taketh 
from  his  own  bosom  the  locket,  saying :  “I  saw  thy  weakness  and  thy 
strength,  for  I  understood  thee  and  have  been  as  a  guardian  over  thee. 
Be  thou  now  as  a  guardian  to  thyself.  Thy  locket  is  back  again.’ ’ 

And  he  embraced  the  lad,  and  kissed  him  until  the  Athenian, 
coming  up,  cried :  ‘  ‘  There  is  need  for  haste !  A  ship  doth  leave  for 
Joppa,  where  that  man  is  whom  thou  desirest  very  much  to  see.  I 
have  passage  for  thee  and  myself,  also  a  great  abundance  of  apparel 
and  everything  needful.  Stay  not,  but  come.” 

He  swept  the  Jew  away.  And  took  him  in  a  boat  across  the  Nile. 


CHAPTER  XII 
Cowards 

Meanwhile,  Ophidion,  in  a  secret  chamber  of  a  house,  awaited 
the  return  of  Emah. 

His  heart  was  touched  with  the  memory  of  many  things,  for,  on 
the  night  before,  he  had  become  a-drunken,  so  that  now  he  did  re¬ 
proach  himself  for  here  a  little  and  there  a  little  of  his  iniquities  and 
stiff-neckedness — which,  as  chief  delator  unto  Cgesar,  and  as  one  whose 
heart  was  naturally  bent  on  destruction,  he  had  many  times  shown. 
“Time  was,”  thought  he,  “when  I  might  have  become  a  proselyte  of 
the  gate  in  holy  Jerusalem.  It  is  too  late  now. — What !  Who  knock- 
eth?  No  one.  Again,  who  knocketh?  Emah?  Enter  thou.  What 
news?  If  unsuccessful,  be  accursed.” 

But  Emah,  as  she  went  into  the  room,  said,  to  compose  him :  “Do 
not  condemn  till  thou  hast  heard  me.  ’  ’ 

So,  from  storming  abouu  the  apartment  he  did  settle  himself  slowly 
down,  coiling,  like  a  snake,  in  a  golden  chair,  to  hear  good  news  of  evil 
accomplishments,  licking  the  while  his  lips  with  slender  tongue.  A 
steady  and  remorseless  leer  lay  all  about  his  mouth,  while  his  cold, 
surveying  eyes  were  set,  half-lidded.  On  his  forehead  was  written, 
as  in  great  flaming  letters,  Hatred,  Deceit,  Lust,  All  Inhumanity. 

Emah  began  to  speak  softly  of  the  journey  whereunto  she  had  en¬ 
ticed  Samson-Solomon  of  Cyrene,  at  first  (because  she  feared  Ophid¬ 
ion)  as  though  she  might  have  been  wholly  successful,  bringing  the 
locket  with  her,  and,  as  it  might  chance  also,  news  of  the  J ew ’s  death. 
And  the  little  sparkling  eyes  of  Ophidion  squinted  and  dilated,  as  he 
thought  of  the  locket  with  its  three  imperial  margarites.  And  then — 


90 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


the  title  to  the  priesthood,  he  would  have  that  also,  destroying1  it. 
He  rubbed  his  hands  and  gloated. 

Then  a  swollen  vein  started  out  on  his  pale,  imperious  forehead, 
as  the  woman  dropped  some  word  which  would  show  that  the  locket 
was  not  yet  quite  come. 

He  leaped  to  his  feet,  yelling. 

Emah  endeavored  still  to  gaze  upon  him,  but  her  sight  failed.  She 
swam  in  a  great  darkness  and  fell  to  the  floor.  There  the  man  of  evil 
spurned  her,  and  cried  many  times:  “Be  accursed!  Fool,  be  ac¬ 
cursed  !  ’  ’ 

And  she  was  questioned  by  him  further,  after  a  season  in  which 
she  thought  she  should  die.  At  length,  in  her  answering,  she  came 
to  the  J ew ’s  refusal  to  eat  of  the  sacrifices  of  the  dead.  ‘  ‘  Nor  would 
Solomon/ ’  said  she,  “in  any  wise  renounce  Jehovah,  but  cried  out 
upon  me,  when  I  said  that  he  should  do  this,  calling  me  both  trickster 
and  harlot,  and  saying  I  had  sorely  deceived  him  in  that  I  had  said  I 
would  bring  him  closer  to  Adonai,  that  he  might,  in  some  wise,  attain 
to  behold  Adonai  in  the  flesh.  ‘And  now/  said  he,  ‘thou  sayest  I 
should  renounce  Him.’  ” 

“Said  he  indeed  so?”  questioned  Ophidion. 

“So  did  he  say  indeed.” 

Then  was  Ophidion  silent  for  a  very  long  time.  At  length  he  said 
unto  her,  ‘  ‘  Summon  thou  me  many  soldiers,  inasmuch  as  I  have  work 
for  them.  Jew,  I  understand  thee  now.” 

Then  he  laughed  a  laugh  that  was  worse  to  the  woman,  as  she  left 
the  apartment,  even  than  the  blows  and  the  kicks.  He  said,  “We  did 
not  clearly  see  thy  soul,  Giant  of  Gyrene.  We  thought  thy  lusts  and 
thy  youthfulness  of  will  were  of  themselves  enough  to  overwhelm  thee. 
But  behold !  the  heart  and  the  core  of  thee  is  thy  worship  of  Adonai. 
Who  could  have  known  that  till  once  he  had  attempted  thee?  Thy 
weakness  is  only  a  portion  of  thy  strength.  Behold,  I  will  take  thee 
as  thou  art.  And  Hell  shall  triumph.  ’ 1 

The  soldiers  came.  But  there  was  such  a  look  about  Ophidion 
that,  when  the  men  both  of  wounds  and  of  blood  did  look  upon  him, 
some  of  them  fell  down  fainting,  while  others  ran  screaming  away. 

And  a  little  spy  entered,  one  that  Ophidion  had  placed  upon  the 
boat  to  watch  Emah.  And  he  held  a  report  in  his  hand,  but  Ophidion 
tore  his  throat  out. 

Then  pulled  up  Ophidion  his  pallium-hood  about  his  ears,  and 
turned  aside  his  face  a  little  (that  the  soldiers  might  be  able  to  endure 
him)  and  then  called  back  the  men  of  war  which  had  fled.  And  hav¬ 
ing  writ  an  epistle,  and  made  full  many  a  copy  thereof,  he  sent  these 


THE  FAILURE 


91 


copies  out  by  the  soldiers  unto  priestesses  in  many  portions  of  the 
world — unto  Joppa  and  Philadelphia;  Athens  and  Rhinocolura; 
Gades,  Rome  and  Petra;  and  likewise  unto  the  priestesses  of  many 
other  cities. 

And  the  letters  were  filled  with  haughty  injunctions,  sly  and 
crafty  omissions,  strange  insinuations,  disguised  equivocations,  most 
of  all  with  explicit  instructions  as  to  how  the  giant,  Samson  of  Cyrene, 
might  most  readily  be  ensnared,  and  the  locket  taken  from  him,  to¬ 
gether  with  lying  words  as  to  what  the  pearls  meant  which  lay  within 
that  locket  and  the  scrap  of  ancient  parchment  which  entitled  the 
Jew  to  his  priesthood  in  Jerusalem.  Finally,  as  to  what  the  great  re¬ 
wards  would  be  to  the  thief  and  idolatress  wTho  should  win  the  pearls 
away  from  the  Jew  and  destroy  his  parchment  utterly. 

....  And,  in  the  pastures  of  Cyrenaica,  Leah  looked  after  the 
sheep  of  Samson,  laboring  diligently  both  by  day  and  oft  by  night, 
and  seeing  in  especial  that  the  hirelings  kept  on  about  their  hard  work. 

And  often  she  leaned  upon  her  shepherd’s  crook,  dreaming  that 
Samson  of  Cyrene  should,  on  a  time,  become  her  husband.  She  wept 
oft  and  bitterly,  for  that  he  had  so  little  written  unto  her,  and  had 
never  at  all  come  back. 

Word  had  reached  her  about  the  snares  of  Ophidion,  which  that 
creature  of  Hell  had  laid  for  the  young  man.  She,  therefore,  com¬ 
posed  an  epistle,  of  which  she  sent  many  copies  out,  one  unto  a  rabbi 
at  this  city,  and  yet  another  unto  another  in  that — all  warning  of  the 
snares  which  had  been  set  by  Ophidion,  and  many  after  him,  as 
against  the  young  Jew  and  his  priesthood. 

....  And,  at  this  very  time,  was  Samson  of  Cyrene  in  the  desert 
of  Sin,  which  is  eastward  of  the  Nile  in  the  mountains  of  Sinai,  to¬ 
gether  with  Lampadephorus. 

....  And  Trivialis,  who  was  then  in  Athens,  goeth  into  the 
country  and  becometh  a  laborer  in  the  fields. 

And  he  married  a  wife,  whose  name  was  Agatha,  which,  by  inter¬ 
pretation,  meaneth  “The  Good.” 

But,  on  a  day,  there  came  into  the  fields  one  in  a  shining  raiment, 
as  he  were  a  person  of  consequence.  He  said  not  much  at  first,  but 
winked  and  whispered  a  little  and  smiled  a  great  deal,  and  then  both 
smiled  and  whispered  and  winked  more.  At  length  he  said,  “I  have 
a  message  unto  thee  from  one  that  is  my  master  and  also  thine  old 
friend.” 

“But,”  said  Trivialis,  “thou  art  thyself  unknown  to  me.  Thy 
name,  therefore.” 

“Pothus  Aporretus,  which  meaneth  ‘Secret  Desire.’  I  bring  a 


92 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


word  of  welcome  and  invitation  unto  thee  from  my  master,  who  as  I 
have  said,  is  an  old  friend  of  thine,  Dissolutio.  ’  ’ 

For  a  time  the  worker  in  the  field  would  nowise  hearken  to  the  fel¬ 
low  in  fair  raiment,  for  he  thought :  ‘  ‘  W ere  I  fooled,  ’twere  not  the 
first  time  whereon  a  fine  appearance  had  pleasured  me  to  my  hurt.” 

But  Pothus  Aporretus  hung  about  the  man  for  many  days,  more 
and  more  deeply  blandishing  him,  and  saying,  for  ensample,  how  very 
much  the  fellow  was  missed  by  Dissolutio,  Euryophthalmus  (Red¬ 
eye),  and  others  of  that  company,  “  whose  names  indeed  I  need  not 
mention,  as  Lord  Trivialis  might  easily  do  so  very  much  for  himself. 
But  the  harlot  Blanditia  (Flattery),  and  many  others  like  her,  they — 

“And  indeed,”  he  added,  after  a  time,  “  ’twere  a  sad  company  if 
thou  go  not  unto  it.  For  who  so  like  to  set  that  whole  fellowship  into 
laughter,  especially  when  a  cypellon  or  two  of  unwatered  wine  hath 
gotten  into  thine  otherwise  so  cold  heart?  There  will  be,  I  tell  thee, 
the  most  beautiful  women —  Behold!  thou  hast  money  of  thy  wife’s 
(as  well  as  that  which  thou  thyself  hast  saved).  It  is  in  thy  hands — 
thy  hands — thy  hands — ” 

And  at  length  the  fair-clad  visitor  had  his  way  with  the  fool, 
huddling  him  out  of  the  field  and  off  toward  the  city. 

And  Trivialis  journeyed  unto  Athens,  Secret  Desire  beside  him  all 
the  road,  portraying  in  gaudiest  colors  the  delights  which  did  await 
(he  said)  them  twain. 

But  scarcely  had  Trivialis,  being  arrived  in  Athens,  joined  him¬ 
self  to  Dissolutio,  when  that  son  of  evil  asked  him:  “Why,  of  late, 
hast  thou  so  little  come  anigh  me?” 

But  behold,  a  rider  from  the  country,  who  suddenly  entered  and 
said  unto  Trivialis:  “Hold  it  not  as  a  sin  against  me  that  I  bring 
unwelcome  tidings,  for  thy  wife,  even  Agatha  the  good,  she  is  dead. 
All  people  mourn  for  her.  ’  ’ 

Cried  Trivialis,  ere  the  man  was  gone :  * i  Dead !  Then  am  I  free !  ’  ’ 
And,  being  by  now  aglow  with  the  new  wine,  he  shouted :  “  I  am  fain 
to  laugh,  and  that  right  long  also.” 

“But,”  said  Dissolutio,  “thou  hast  not,  as  yet,  declared  unto  me 
this  thing,  the  reason  why  thou  didst  not  earlier  come  back  to  me.  ’  ’ 

“Oh  ho,”  said  Trivialis,  in  a  thickish  voice,  “didst  not  thou  thy¬ 
self  declare  unto  me  that  pleasure  is  the  only  sensible  object  of  hu¬ 
man  pursuit — wherein  thou  wast  truly  pupil  unto  Aristippus  ?  Thou 
saidst  that  fame,  fortune,  even  friendship,  are  only  to  be  desired  when 
and  as  these  things  would  administer  unto  pleasure.  Hast  thou  so 
soon  forgotten  ?  Nay,  say  not  unto  me  thy  friendship  would  have  be¬ 
gotten  pleasure  in  me.  ’Tis  so  now :  ’twas  not  so  lately.  For  a  time 


THE  FAILURE 


93 


I  needed  the  sweet  regeneration  of  the  country  air,  and  life  among 
rustics.  But  behold!  I  be  ready  again  for  my  old-time  acquain¬ 
tance.  ’  ’ 

Then  Dissolutio,  falling  upon  his  neck,  kissed  him  and  said : ‘ 1  That 
I  may  the  better  and  more  firmly  bind  thee  unto  me,  I  will  show  thee 
my  sister,  a  woman  of  incomparable  beauty,  even  Consuetudo  Confir- 
mata,  or  Confirmed  Habit.  And  when  thou  hast  seen  her  thou  wilt 
say  that  thou  shalt  have  her  always.  And  when  she  is  thy  wife,  then 
canst  thou  not  leave  me  ever  again/  ’ 

And  Trivialis  indeed  married  Consuetudo  Confirmata,  the  sister 
of  Dissolutio,  finding  her  well-favored.  But  on  the  day  whereon  he 
espoused  her,  he,  laughing  merrily,  turned  full  sad  for  a  passing  mo¬ 
ment,  remembering  that  his  former  and  sober-minded  spouse,  even 
Agatha,  had  once  said  to  him,  1  ‘Ever  trivial  shalt  thou  be,  as  thy 
name  is.  If  aught  of  sadness  be  within  thee,  or  any  earnestness  at 
all  or  great  solemnity,  then  that  is  deep  down  and  a-sleeping  within 
thy  nature,  and  only  a  great  one  from  above  can  bring  it  to  awaken¬ 
ing  in  such  a  way  that  it  may  live  and  endure.’ ’ 

And  Trivialis,  as  he  remembered,  had  only  said  unto  her  yet  again : 
“I  am  fain  to  laugh.  And  laugh,  too,  I  shall  till  that  I  am  in  a  very 
deep  grave.” 

But  Consuetudo  Confirmata  led  Trivialis  a  queer-roystering  life, 
merry  enough  at  first,  but,  later,  with  trumpery  tricks  and  sharp 
tongue-lashings,  and,  at  length,  he  found  her  for  a  harlot.  He  findeth 
also  that  she  hath  already  husbands  living. 

Then  met  he,  many  a  time  and  oft,  as  he  fared  forth  unto  his  work 
of  a  morning,  Agonus.  And  after  a  while,  owing  to  the  adjurations  of 
Agonus,  he  gave  the  slip  to  Consuetudo  Confirmata,  choosing  the  way 
in  which  he  believed  it  right  that  a  man  should  go. 

For  a  time,  too,  he  was  fain  to  laugh  no  more.  He  said,  as  he 
wandered:  “I  have  tested,  0  Lord,  the  many  things  of  earth,  and 
still  am  unsatisfied.  As  to  thee,  I  love  thee.  That  thou  knowest,  of 
howsoever  little  account  I  may  have  been  unto  thee.  Yet  I  fain  would 
behold  thee,  0  Jehovah,  and  would  touch  thy  hand,  and  kiss  thy  gar¬ 
ment’s  edge.  Even  as  thy  priest,  Solomon,  hast  supplicated  many  a 
time,  so  pray  I  now,  and  beseech  that  thou  shouldst  be  as  my  friend — 
a  friend  I  may  see,  an  audible  one  also,  but  not  with  a  shadow 
of  turning.” 

Yet,  at  this,  he  thought  he  beheld  that  old  boon  companion,  even 
Euryophthalmus,  coming  from  a  wine-house.  He  cried,  helpless  in 
the  suddenly  merry  heart  of  him:  “I  am  fain  to  laugh.” 

He  joined  himself  unto  Euryophthalmus,  but,  truth  to  tell, 


94 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


not  that  he  might  again  drink.  And  they  twain  offered  themselves 
as  legionaries  to  a  certain  captain  which  was  near.  And  having  taken 
service,  avowed  eternal  friendship  each  to  each  till  death  should 
them  part.  But  when,  on  a  day,  together  with  many  other  mighty 
soldiers,  their  company  went  up  fiercely  against  a  small  band  of 
thieves,  both  Euryophthalmus  and  Trivialis  fled  backward  apace  (each 
by  his  several  way  of  safety)  and,  for  a  time,  were  not  seen  of  men. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

Only  for  Javan,  Japhet’s  Son,  the  Bearer  of  the  Light 

“Stop!  I’ll  go  no  further.”  So  said  Samson  of  Cyrene  unto 
Lampadephorus,  the  Athenian. 

The  Athenian  answered  and  said,  “Not  for  me f  By  the  singing 
heavens!  Listen  therefore,  and  I  will  say  to  thee  a  thing.” 

‘  ‘  I  will  listen,  by  the  splendor  of  Adonai !  ’ 9 

1  ‘  My  heart,  0  great  J ew,  is  in  the  Phrygian  mode.  It  is  filled  with 
the  sound  of  trumpets.” 

“For  whom  wilt  thou  battle?” 

“Listen.” 

“I  hear  thee.” 

“Have  I  not  taught  thee  many  things,  been  unto  thee  a  school¬ 
master,  divided  all  my  learning  with  thee?” 

“Thou  hast  been  in  this  matter  generous.” 

“Lovest  thou  me,  then,  0  Samson-Solomon  of  Cyrene?” 

‘  ‘  I  love  thee,  Lampadephorus,  man  of  Athens.  And  never  another 
friend  have  I  that  is  like  unto  thee.” 

“Wilt  thou,  then,  not  fight  for  me,  fight  for  me  most  manfully, 
be  my  friendly  dimachaarus,  live,  or,  it  may  be,  die,  in  a  glory  of 
mighty  combat  by  my  side?” 

Now  the  Jew  was  silent  for  a  very  long  time.  Then  he  looked  up 
suddenly,  asking:  “Fightest  thou  because  thou  lovest  me?” 

At  this  the  Greek  was  hurt.  Yet  he  made  not  lamentation,  but 
said  only :  ( 1  There  was  once  a  time  when  I  did  fight  for  that  I  well 
did  love  thee — no  more  of  that.  But  now — let  us  reason — ” 

“Lampadephorus  of  Athens,  friend  of  mine,”  brake  in  the  Jew, 
“thou  art  very  great  and  very  wise,  but  thou  art  subtile  also,  and 
hast  not  dealt  clearly  by  me.  Thou  saidst  at  the  door  of  the  Rabbi’s 
house,  that  thou  liadst  taken  for  me  a  passage  unto  Joppa.  Then 
broughtest  thou  me  forth  from  the  Nile,  and  joined  both  thee  and  me 
unto  all  these  mighty  men  on  horses.  And  thou  as  well  as  I  didst 


THE  FAILURE 


95 


mount  the  Thessalian  steeds,  and  eastward  to  these  mountains  didst 
thou  bring  me.  And  behold  thou  dealest  but  strangely  with  me  even 
at  the  present  moment,  in  which  thou  sayest  unto  me :  ‘  Fight !  Fight 
thou  beside  me.  Fight  in  glory.  Fight  because  thou  lovest  me.’ 
Thou  dost  not  speak  of  the  manner  of  the  men  the  which  we  should  go 
up  against,  nor  why  we  should  oppose  them,  nor  for  what  final  pur¬ 
pose.  Speak  thou  clearly  unto  me,  0  Lampadephorus,  and  say  to  me 
for  whom  thou  tightest.  So  it  may  be  that  I  will  fight  beside  thee.  ’  ’ 

The  Greek  said,  ‘‘Yonder!  In  and  out  among  the  rocks  they 
come.  Robbers,  all  that  band.  They  are  many  more  than  we  also.” 

He  signed  to  a  trumpeter,  giving  stern  command. 

And  the  trumpeter  blew,  and  all  the  strong  men  formed  line  of 
battle. 

“We  fighti  for  Cassar,”  explaineth  the  Greek,  “for  Csesar,  the 
Lord  of  All  this  World.  Have  I  not  said  unto  thee  before  that  I  am 
a  servant  unto  Caesar  ?  There  is  none  can  hold  his  little  finger,  while 
the  sands  run,  or  stand  within  his  presence  and  not  quake.  He  is 
Caesar.  ’  ’ 

“Is,  then,  Caesar  beautiful?” 

“Unbeautiful  it  is  to  struggle  against  him.  And  some  who  have 
broken  his  treasury  have  hidden  in  this  desert  the  pearls,  the  rubies, 
and  the  silver  and  the  gold.  And  I  am  deputed  to  find  these  things.  ’  * 

“A  mere  delator!” 

“I  am  delator  unto  Caesar,  and  not  his  chief  one  either.  Ophidion 
is  that. — Now  I  see  the  men  of  might  come  winding  up  the  rocks.  In 
a  twinkling  they  will  be  all  about  us.  Samson  of  Cyrene,  wilt  thou 
fight  for  me?” 

Samson  looked  off  over  to  the  mount  whereon  the  Lord  had  given 
the  Law  to  Moses,  and  all  that  was  in  that  law  came  back  to  him,  but 
mostly  the  plain  command:  “Thou  shalt  not  kill.” 

He  said  to  Lampadephorus,  “Thee  I  love,  but  for  Caesar  I  will  not 
fight.  ’ ’ 

So  he  rode  to  a  place  apart,  which  was  higher  than  the  rest  of  the 
battle  ground. 

And  Lampadephorus  looked  up  to  him,  and  grew  scornful. 

But  Samson  said,  “Behold,  I  saw  these  things  in  a  dream  last 
night,  wherein  one  that  was  bearing  a  golden  torch,  placed  in  each 
of  my  hands  a  Roman  sword,  commanding  me  ‘fight’.” 

“Then,”  said  Lampadephorus  up  to  him,  “fight.” 

“But  an  angel  also  came,”  said  Samson,  “shouting,  ‘What  will  ye 
do  ?  Thy  swords  be  swords  of  mercy.  ’  And  he  brake  the  points  from 
the  swords.” 


96 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


But  Lampadephorus  called  once  again,  “There  is  pay.  All  this 
world  is  wholly  at  the  charge  of  Caesar :  he  will  pay  thee  mightily.” 

But  the  Jew  cried  back  in  anger,  “Did  I  ask  thee  for  pay?  The 
Lord  of  the  Heaven  and  Earth  hath  said  unto  me  and  unto  mine: 

‘  Thou  shalt  not  kill,  ’  and  again,  ‘  He  that  liveth  by  the  sword,  shall  die 
by  the  sword.  ’  ’  ’ 

“Then  thou  art  a  weakling,  devoid  of  all  skill,  and  a  craven 
merely.  ’ 9 

But  Samson  of  Gyrene  called  after  the  Greek,  as  he  went  toward 
approaching  battle:  “I  claim  no  warriorship,  being  priest.” 

And  the  Greek  cried  over  his  shoulder,  “I  have  depended  on 
thee.  See!  now  they  will  wholly  destroy  me,  thy  teacher,  and  my 
bones  shall  be  counted  by  the  beasts.” 

He  joined  his  singing  men  in  loud  battle. 

And  to  and  fro  the  contending  forces  swayed. 

Samson  drew  still  farther  off,  that  he  might  not  be  tempted  into 
the  battle  by  the  sounds.  Against  a  mighty  rock  drew  he,  into  its 
great  hollow,  with  hands  across  eyes.  He  prayed,  remembering  both 
Temunah  and  Emah. 

Shouted  some  of  the  forces  of  the  Greek,  “Lampadephorus  is 
down,  is  slain.” 

The  Jew  awoke,  then,  from  his  dream  of  far  things,  and  beholding 
his  Master  on  the  ground,  saw  that  a  crimson  fountain  played  from 
his  side,  and  that  his  lovely  eyes  were  turning  glassy. 

Cried  he,  *  ‘  Shall  I  behold  the  barbarians  triumph  ?  By  the  very 
Sheckinah,  not  so.  For  I  have  slept  in  the  tents  of  Japhet  and  of 
Javan,1  and  Javan  hath  ministered  unto  me,  and  he  is  my  friend.” 

Took  he  the  swords  up  which  Lampadephorus  had  aforetime  of¬ 
fered  him,  and  gat  not  up  upon  his  horse  again,  but,  running  on  his 
own  legs  only  and  shouting,  “Stand  back,  all  ye  unrighteous,”  he 
drave  a  great  path  through  the  enemy. 

And  he  brake  the  points  from  both  his  swords,  but  yet  fought  on 
and  tired  not,  smiting  all  both  hip  and  thigh,  and  from  one  portion  of 
the  field  unto  yet  another. 

And  he  slew  a  mighty  force,  and  took  many  prisoners,  and  brought 
the  captives  unto  Lampadephorus,  who  then  said  unto  him :  ‘  ‘  My 
dimachaerus,  0  my  dimachaerus !  My  friend,  my  friend !  ’  ’ 

And  the  Jew  kissed  him,  and  bound  his  wounds.  And  the  Master 
said  unto  him,  “Thou,  0  son  of  Shem,  didst  not  love  Caesar,  but  me, 
the  son  of  Javan,  the  son  of  Japhet,  me  thou  couldst  not  fail.” 


1  Javan,  a  son  of  Japhet,  was  the  ancestor  of  the  Greeks. 


THE  FAILURE 


97 


CHAPTER  XIV 

The  Stair  of  a  Hundred  and  One  Steps 

There  were,  among  the  men  that  were  captured,  the  leaders  of  a 
great  piracy,  Dysmas  and  Gestas  and  also  Barabbas — men  of  violence 
and  uproar. 

And,  in  the  night,  while  yet  the  whole  company  lay  resting,  the 
leaders  of  the  captured  band,  escaping  the  watch,  ran  away.  But 
Lampadephorus  said,  ‘ ‘ What  matter?  We  shall  get  them  still,  either 
now  or  in  the  months  and  years  to  come. ’  ’  And  others  of  the  captives 
pointed  the  man  of  Caesar  to  where  the  treasure  lay  hid,  an  immense 
store. 

And  when  the  wound  of  Lampadephorus  was  healed  (which  was 
after  many  days)  then  said  the  Greek,  “As  we  fare  toward  Petra 
(for  thither,  almost,  shall  we  go,  and  thence  thou  mayest  proceed  unto 
Joppa,  but  I  to  Rhinocolura)  I  will  teach  thee  things  more  useful  and 
more  beautiful  by  far  than  any  I  have  hitherto  shown  thee.  For  be¬ 
hold!  I  now  will  no  longer  deal  doubly  with  thee.” 

“Hast  thou  so  done  ever?” 

“It  is  not  good,  generally,  that  any  man  should  teach  another  all 
he  knoweth,  lest  that  other  should  on  a  day  prove  unfaithful  and  turn 
against  his  master’s  bosom  that  which  he  had  from  his  lips. 

“But  now  I  am  sure  thou  wilt  never  be  unfaithful,  and,  as  I  have 
no  son  (at  least  I  know  not  where  he  is — for  one  I  had  in  early  man¬ 
hood,  but  he  was  stolen  from  me)  to  whom  to  leave  these  things,  I 
will  even  now  teach  them  unto  thee — to  thee  who  art  better  to  me  than 
many  a  son  unto  his  father.” 

With  that  he  began  to  teach  again  and  Solomon  to  learn.  And  lo ! 
the  Greek  taught  the  J ew  better  than  any  man  was  ever  taught  before, 
especially  that  the  Jew  might  always  be  able  to  defend  himself  with 
skill  as  well  as  with  strength  against  comers  of  whatsoever  nation,  so 
long  as  life  was  in  him  to  be  defended. 

And  these  twain  wrought  together,  at  the  rear  of  the  caravan,  in 
daily  exercise  and  arduous  practice  for  full  many  days.  And  the 
people  of  all  the  other  nations  which  were  in  the  caravan  beheld  them 
at  their  exercises;  but  they,  on  their  part,  though  curious,  did  not 
much  learn,  or  try.  But  the  Jew  learned  willingly. 

But  when  the  Greek  solicited  the  Jew  that  he  should  accompany 

him,  the  Greek,  to  Rhinocolura,  thence  to  Joppa  and  Rome — in  that 

latter  place  to  be  a  dimachaerus  before  Caesar,  then  said  Solomon :  “I 

am  truly  but  a  sorry  priest,  and  yet  a  priest  indeed  and  in  sober  truth 
7 


98 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


am  I — not  a  dimachasrus.  For  behold,  the  Lord  hath  chosen  me,  and 
I  have,  as  thou  well  knowest,  in  my  very  bosom,  the  credentials  of  my 
calling.  And  it  was  long  ago  prophesied  by  Betah,  of  whom  I  have 
spoken  to  thee  before,  that,  even  though  I  should  seek  but  mine  own 
mere  purposes,  I  should,  on  a  day,  go  up  to  Jerusalem,  there  to  be¬ 
come  Jehovah’s  priest.  See  now,  how  that  prophecy  hath  been  ful¬ 
filled!  When  I  left  Pentapolis,  it  was  wholly  (as  I  thought)  because 
I  had  done  a  great  murder  and  I  sought  to  escape.  And,  later,  I  did 
follow  thee  because  I  loved  thee — though  thou  wast  a  worshipper  of 
idols.  Later  still,  I  did  take  me  on  to  Crocodilopolis,  both  because  I 
loved  thee  and  because  I  sought  the  man  on  whom  I  would  be  re¬ 
venged.  Then  broughtest  thou  me  to  the  desert  of  Sin — myself  being, 
as  I  believed,  on  the  straight  way  to  mine  adversary.  And  now  I  have 
followed  thee,  both  because  of  thy  heathen  learning  (which  I  very 
much  love)  and  also  to  find  mine  enemy  again.  But  behold !  we  draw 
not  far  from  Jerusalem,  being  anigli  unto  Petra.  And  now  I  will  do 
the  will  of  Betah  (which  is  the  Lord’s  will  also)  and  go  on  to  Jerusa¬ 
lem  by  the  Petra  way.  First  of  all  I  will  be  a  priest.  Thenafter,  I 
shall  find  mine  enemy.” 

Then  said  Lampadephorus,  “  Forgive  me,  for  I  have  deceived 
thee.  Thine  enemy  is  not  at  Joppa,  but  at  Rhodes.  And  they  who 
said  to  thee  ‘Joppa,’  (the  captains  of  the  ships  in  Crocodilopolis)  were 
taught  to  do  that  thing  by  me,  even  for  this  purpose  that  I  might  de¬ 
ceive  thee,  and  have  thee  by  me  where  I  fought — for  who  can  stand 
against  both  Greek  and  Jew?” 

The  J ew  forgave  him,  saying :  ‘  ‘  Could  I  hold  aught  against  thee  ? 
thee  who  hast  been  my  teacher  in  so  many  things  ?  In  no  wise.  But 
urge  me  not  to  accompany  thee  unto  Caesar,  for  I  cannot  go.” 

“Not  now,  haply,”  said  the  Greek,  “but  later,  on  a  certain  day, 
thou ’lit  fight  upon  the  sand  before  great  Caesar,  and  before  all  men, 
for  I  comprehend  thee  and  thine  exceeding  great  strength,  and  I  do 
see  these  matters  as  it  were  in  the  book  of  destiny. — But  thou  speakest 
of  teaching.  I  have  taught  thee  Hellenism  (with  all  which  I  have 
received  from  both  the  Babylonians  and  the  Egyptians)  and  thou 
hast  taught  me  Judaism,  0  sublime  Theophorus,  and  so  I  am  deeply 
beholden  unto  thee — albeit  I  never  could  become  even  a  proselyte  of 
the  gate.  Thy  God  is  a  good  and  great  god.  Would  that  I  were  able 
to  understand  Him. 

“And  now,  since  thou  dost  journey  to  Petra,  I  will  give  thee  letters 
for  that  place,  unto  a  certain  Philostephanus,  a  great  philosopher,  and 
a  kind  of  chief  among  the  many  in  that  city  which  do  profess  philos¬ 
ophy,  of  whatever  school.  And  he,  for  the  sake  of  thy  Lampa- 


THE  FAILURE 


99 


dephorus,  will  give  thee  an  inn  in  his  house,  and  will  kindly  entreat 
thee  in  all  ways.  And  he  hath  two  fair  daughters,  whom  thou 
shouldest  know.” 

Lampadephorus  therefore  writ  and  delivered  to  Samson  the  let¬ 
ters. 

And  they  came,  by  slow  degrees,  with  all  their  treasures,  and  all 
their  armed  men,  and  all  their  shackled  prisoners,  unto  the  precincts 
of  the  scarlet  mountains  which  are  called  Edom,  or  “red.”  Lampa¬ 
dephorus  was  singing,  like  a  nightingale  in  his  mating  time,  Clean thes 9 
“Hymn  to  Zeus: — Nothing  takes  place  without  thee,  0  Lord,  except¬ 
ing  that  which  bad  men  do  because  of  their  lack  of  sweet  reason ;  but 
even  that  which  is  evil  is  altered  by  thee  unto  perfection,  and  is  made 
to  harmonize  with  all  thy  plans  of  beauty.” 

When  he  had  finished  singing,  he  said:  “Rememberest  thou  the 
day  we  met,  0  Samson-Solomon  of  Cyrene  ?  ’ 1 

Samson  said  unto  him,  “I  remember.” 

Then  said  Lampadephorus  again,  “Rememberest  thou  the  day  we 
met,  0  Samson-Solomon  of  Cyrene  ?  ’  ’ 

And  Samson  would  have  said  again  unto  him,  ‘  ‘  I  remember,  ’  ’  but 
that  he  could  not  speak.  For,  at  a  little  distance,  he  saw  a  Roman 
standard  placed  at  a  forking  in  the  roads.  He  knew  then  that  the 
soldiers  had  passed  thither  and  planted  the  standard  for  a  sign  that 
there  the  ways  did  part,  the  one  running  upward  unto  Petra,  the  other 
outward  to  the  coast. 

The  Greek,  too,  beheld  the  standard,  and,  while  they  twain  rode 
slowly  on,  said  he:  “I  am  sometimes  filled  with  sore  misgivings  as 
about  my  future.” 

“Yet  why?”  asked  Samson. 

“For  that  he  they  call  Ophidion  (which  is  chief  delator  unto  Cae¬ 
sar)  hath  made  before  Caesar  certain  evil  reports  about  me,  saying 
(for  one  ensample)  ‘He  knoweth  too  many  things  concerning  thee, 
O  Caesar,  having  been  in  thy  service  far  too  long  (for  him)  and  he 
hath  also  a  way,  at  times,  of  telling  much  truth,  either  in  wood,  or  in 
color,  or  in  polished  form  of  stone.  ’  And  in  this  wise  doth  Ophidion 
poison  the  ear  of  the  Lord  of  All  This  World  against  me,  and  that 
continually.  And  I  do  fear  the  Lord  of  All  This  World,  that  master 
whom  I  have  served  so  long,  for,  though  he  is  powerful,  hence  good 
to  work  for,  he  is  jealous  of  his  authority  and  sovereign  power,  hence 
ill  to  work  for  also. 

‘  ‘  I  have  verily,  as  Ophidion  maketh  report,  been  too  faithful  unto 
Caesar,  so  that  he  doubtless,  as  mine  enemy  well  knoweth,  often  wisheth 
I  were  dead.  True  was  this  also  when  first  I  entered  Rome,  so  that  I 


100 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


built  me  there  a  house  on  the  borders  of  the  Subura — leaving  a  tiny 
portion  incomplete.  That  part  did  I  finish  with  these  mine  own  very 
hands,  making  a  little  secret  door  behind  a  statue  of  the  goddess  of 
wisdom — let  it  be  as  a  secret  forever  between  us — and  the  door  did 
open  on  a  privy  passage  and  a  secret  stair — a  stair  of  a  hundred 
steps  and  one.  Such  a  stair  was  that  as  often,  even  at  the  present  day, 
is  built  in  Rome  and  there  is  called  scalce  Grcecce  (or  ‘ Greek  stairs’). 
That  stair  led  down  to  an  aperture,  closed  with  a  massive  obstaculum, 
which  not  many  men  indeed  could  lift. 

“But  get  this  up,  and  lo!  a  means  of  swift  and  certain  escape! 
Even  were  seventy  legions  of  great  Caesar  but  a  little  way  behind  thee, 
thou  wouldst  escape.” 

“Yet  thou  wouldst  surely  have  landed,  so,  in  the  filth  of  all 
Rome.  ’  ’ 

“Yea,  amid  stercora  and  squealing  rats  and  putrid  corpses — and 
safety.  And,  as  for  things  that  are  sore  unbeautiful,  why  Rome  itself 
is  truly  the  jakes  of  all  this  world.  And  from  time  to  time,  as  I 
pondered  in  my  zotheca,  all  alone,  I  would  turn  to  the  goddess  of  wis¬ 
dom,  and,  embracing  her,  press  a  spring  which  there  was  in  her  sacred 
bosom.  And  Pallas  Athena  would  turn,  and  the  door  fly  open,  and 
the  way  be  wholly  clear — ” 

“Unto  darkness.” 

“Thou  sayest  truly— unto  darkness.  But  every  man  should  have 
his  secret  stairway — ” 

“Unto  filth.” 

“Unto  filth  and  freedom.  For  I  do  say  unto  thee  that  freedom 
is  often  to  be  had  in  no  other  wise  than  by  filth.  That  is  sore  unbeau¬ 
tiful,  and  yet  I,  thy  teacher,  do  tell  it  thee  as  being  wholly  true. — 
Would  it  were  not.” 

And  by  now  they  were  come  to  the  forking  of  the  way  and  the 
Roman  standard. 

Lampadephorus  said  unto  the  Jew,  “I  say  unto  thee  truly  that  I  do 
not  wish  to  die,  for  I  joy  in  all  the  world,  its  life,  its  beauty,  its  end¬ 
less  variety  and  inexhaustible  strength.  ’  ’ 

“As  I,”  said  Solomon,  “in  the  thought  of  God,  His  mercy  and 
His  favor.” 

“Thou  speakest  truth,”  said  Lampadephorus.  “We  are  very  dif¬ 
ferent,  thou  and  I,  though  both  are  strong  and  few  could  stand  be¬ 
fore  us. — But  let  me  not  sadden  thee.  Look,  Friend,  unto  the  East. 
Thou  art  still  in  the  young  morning  of  life,  and  all  the  world  is  red 
with  happy  promise.  May  thy  days  be  beautiful,  both  beautiful  and 
true  and  good,  or,  the  rather,  good  and  true  for  this  that  they  are 


THE  FAILURE 


101 


beautiful.  Thy  God  can  never  be  my  god,  for  I  wot  nothing  of  sin, 
but  of  thee  I  have  yet  learned  mightily.” 

And  he  took  from  his  pocket  the  knuckle-bone  of  a  sheep,  and 
said:  “It  is  custom  in  our  country  when  two  friends  part,  to  brake 
in  twain  the  knuckle-bone  of  a  sheep,  each  friend  to  take  one  part 
thereof,  and  to  preserve  that  part  forever — unless  indeed  being  in  sore 
perplexity  or  some  great  peril,  he  desireth  assistance.  And  then,  if 
he  have  but  a  messenger,  he  can  send  his  portion  of  the  knuckle-bone, 
whereby  his  friend  shall  know  him,  and  shall  come  at  once  to  his 
relief.” 

And  he  brake  the  knuckle-bone  in  twain,  and  gave  to  the  Jew  a 
half  thereof. 

And  the  other  half  he  placed  in  his  wallet,  and  having  set  his 
countenance  unto  the  westward,  started  swiftly  on  his  journey. 

But  the  Jew  thought  "long  about  the  history  of  his  friendship  with 
this  man :  that  sudden  vision  of  the  beauteous  light-bearer,  while  he, 
the  shepherd  lad,  stood  dejected  and  at  gaze  in  the  desolate  darkness 
of  his  father’s  tomb;  the  happy  walk  beside  him,  then,  in  the  dim 
desert — the  instruction  he  had  received  from  the  Master’s  lips;  the 
fierce  battle,  in  which,  at  the  beginning,  the  Greek  had  been  as  his 
hateful  enemy,  but,  at  the  close,  his  sobbing  friend;  then  the  coming 
of  the  two  to  Sinai ;  the  Caesarian  conflict  in  which  he  had  himself  un¬ 
expectedly  taken  high  portion  and  joyous ;  then  the  second  instruction 
of  him,  the  Jew,  by  the  light-and-laughter-loving  master,  who  knew 
the  secrets  of  this  world.  All  these  things  returned,  now,  sacredly, 
unto  the  Jew. 

But,  by  this,  the  Greek  was  far  in  the  distance — a  tiny  figure,  hav¬ 
ing,  as  it  seemed,  a  bright  light  playing  round  about  it.  And  the  Jew 
watched  both  the  figure  and  the  light,  and  watched  them,  and  yet  for 
a  very  long  time  continued  to  watch  them,  until,  at  length,  they  had 
altogether  vanished  in  the  vague  infinity  of  blue  dust. 

And  all  the  while  Samson  had  been  sitting  a-horseback,  very 
straight  and  very  still,  upon  one  single  spot.  But,  of  a  sudden,  he 
bowed  himself.  And  casting  a  corner  of  his  raiment  round  about 
his  head,  he  wept  sore. 


102 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


CHAPTER  XV 
Gillxjl 

There  came  to  Samson  a  woman’s  voice,  saying:  “Why  weepest 
thou,  0  man  of  Cyrenaica?  On  a  day  thou  shalt  see  Adonai  in  the 
flesh :  then  shalt  thou  have  indeed  a  friend.  ’  ’ 

He  thought  for  a  moment  that  he  listened  to  the  voice  of  Amahnah, 
so  like  were  the  words  as  well  as  the  sound  thereof  unto  that  sweet 
woman’s.  Turning,  he  beheld  that  a  short,  though  resplendent,  cara¬ 
van  had  come  up,  the  while  he  had  wept  for  Lampadephorus,  and 
that,  in  the  midst  of  the  camels,  was  an  Edomitish  woman.  She  sate 
on  a  milk-white  dromedary  furnished  with  little  bells  and  trappings 
of  scarlet,  and  her  face  was  like  the  sound  of  music  in  a  sunlit  tem¬ 
ple.  She  it  was  that  had  spoke. 

And  Samson’s  sorrow  left  him,  and  he  was  filled  with  a  great  fear 
instead,  for  that  the  woman  was  beautiful,  and  yet  strange,  and  he 
knew  of  the  power  which  women  had  over  him  who  were  beautiful  and 
strange.  Moreover,  the  woman  did  seem  to  know  both  him  and  his 
heart. 

He  said,  “Woman,  whither  goest  thou?” 

She  said,  “Unto  Petra,  which  is  the  chief  city  of  Edom,  and  of  all 
Asia — except  Jerusalem,”  and  rode  on. 

And  Samson,  who  was  also  Solomon,  of  Cyrene,  rode  at  the  rear  of 
the  caravan,  for  he  thought :  “I  also  fare  toward  Petra,  and,  in  the 
caravan,  I  am,  in  a  way,  safe  from  robbers.  And  when  I  am  come 
within  the  city  and  am  wholly  safe,  I  will  leave  the  caravan,  and  on 
to  the  house  of  Philostephanus.  ’  ’ 

So  he  followed,  and  went  in  the  wake  of  the  splendid  caravan 
toward  populous  Petra — but  only  the  owls  and  the  ravens  inhabit  that 
place  today. 

And,  all  the  way  along,  he  said  in  his  heart:  “Let  me  beware,  0 
Adonai,  of  the  woman  which  is  both  beautiful  and  strange.  ’  ’  And  oft- 
times  he  cried  in  the  depths  of  his  soul,  ‘  ‘  0  Adonai,  Adonai !  If  ever 
I  do  forget  thee  and  thy  child,  Amahnah,  even  Machashebethel,  then 
may  the  scarlet  mountains  fall  upon  me  and  the  hills  of  white  and 
blue  cover  over  my  bones.  ’  ’  But  it  came  into  his  mind  also  that  hard 
it  was  to  serve  any  God  which  could  neither  be  felt,  nor  seen,  nor 
heard,  nor  anywise  come  anigh  unto.  “A  sign,  a  sign!  I  will  have 
a  sign  from  Heaven!” 

Then  his  heart  smote  him  utterly,  for  he  remembered  that  in  such 
a  mood  it  was  he  had  wandered  from  Adonai. 


THE  FAILURE 


103 


He  raised  his  hand,  and  sware  by  his  soul’s  salvation  that  never 
again  would  he  seek  to  know  Adonai  as  a  friend,  and  that  all  strange 
women  and  their  ways  should  be  far  from  him  forever. 

They  came  to  a  place  of  bones  where  crosses  were,  and  they  that 
were  dead  yet  upon  the  wood.  And  he  saw  that  the  soldiers  had  been 
here,  for,  beneath  each  cross,  was  a  board  bearing  the  words,  “Rome 
and  revenge.”  He  said,  “Adonai,  keep  me  from  all  revenges.”  But, 
remembering  Trivialis,  and  saying :  ‘ 1  That  man  I  hate  because  he  hath 
made  a  mockery  of  God,  and  not  for  mine  own  sake, 9  ’  he  rode  up  close 
to  the  hindmost  men  of  the  caravan  (which  were  young  men)  saying 
unto  them :  “I  prithee,  who  was  she  that  just  now  spake  unto  me,  and 
rideth  on  the  little  white  dromedary  with  the  scarlet  trappings?” 

The  most  of  the  young  men  answered  not,  but  looked  on  him  in  a 
maze.  One  older  than  the  others,  cried  out:  “Now,  by  the  blood  that 
flows  upon  the  stone!” 

The  caravan  stopped.  The  woman  dismounted,  and  drank  beside 
a  well.  Then  looked  she  at  Samson-Solomon  steadily. 

She  took  in  her  hand  a  rod  and  wrote  in  the  sand,  then  looked  on 
Samson  yet  again. 

And  she  gat  upon  her  beast,  and  the  caravan  moved. 

But  when  Samson  had  come  to  the  sand  by  the  well ’s  side,  he  read : 
“0  incomparable  one!  Thou  who  art  Samson  and  also  Solomon,  both 
strength  and  wisdom,  I  would  indeed  see  much  of  thee,  and  learn  at 
thy  feet  the  doctrines  of  God.  For  I  have  heard  concerning  thee  and 
Adonai.  ’  ’ 

Then  Samson  bowed  himself,  and  rode  on  silent  and  afraid. 

And  when  they  had  threaded  the  tortuous  defile  of  scarlet  rock 
that  leadeth  downward  into  the  city,  then  went  she  that  was  priestess 
of  Dusares  (but,  as  yet,  Samson  was  unknowing  of  this  matter)  into 
a  great  temple  which  stood  anigh.  And  the  caravan  went  on. 

And  Samson  was  called  from  out  the  end  of  the  caravan  by  a  great 
voice  shouting  in  Hebrew. 

He  looked,  and  behold — a  Jewish  rabbi,  both  in  tephillim  and  phy¬ 
lactery.  The  face  of  the  man  was  like  that  of  Isaiah  and  of  them 
that  were  with  him  and  somewhat  before  him. 

The  Rabbi  called,  “I  know  thee  who  thou  art:  blessed  is  he  that 
cometh  in  the  name  of  the  Lord.  Thou  art  Samson,  which  is  also 
called  Solomon.  As  for  me,  I  am  Rabbi  of  this  city,  and  am  called 
Jeezer.  But  why  hast  thou  not  Amahnah  with  thee,  0  priest?” 

Said  the  young  man,  “Hail  to  thee,  Jeezer!  It  is  only  because  of 
mine  own  sins,  0  reverend  Rabbi,  that  I  came  away  without  the  Child 
of  God.  On  a  future  day — ” 


104 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


“May  it  be  so,”  responded  Jeezer.  Then,  “I  have  for  thee,  in 
addition  to  temporal  blessings,  a  little  letter  from  thine  Amahnah, 
which  is  also  Enooth,  or  ‘Affliction/  and  Machashebethel,  or  ‘God’s 
purpose.’  ” 

And  Samson  knew  not  why,  but  he  loathed  the  Rabbi  and  the  let¬ 
ter,  for  his  heart  was  darkened.  Yet  he  said  with  sweetness,  “Peace 
be  unto  thee,  0  Jeezer.”  He  took  the  moneys  into  his  wallet,  and, 
breaking  the  seal  of  the  letter,  read — 

Amahnah  unto  Samson  of  Cyrene,  Greeting: 

Art  thou  well?  If  so,  then  all  is  well. 

We  have  learned  from  friends  of  Azrikam  (who  have  watched  over  thee)  that 
thou  hast  gone  toward  Petra  way. 

And  behold  we  have  also  learned  that  Azrikam,  that  helper  against  the 
enemy,  is  now  no  more.  We  have  lifted  up  our  voices  and  wept  long  for  him. 
And  thou,  when  thou  shalt  learn  of  his  death,  wilt  also  weep. 

I  still  look  after  thy  flocks,  and  send  thee  moneys  by  the  Rabbi,  Jeezer,  at 
whose  house  we  know  (by  the  friends  of  Azrikam)  that  thou  shouldest  abide. 

When  wilt  thou  return  that  we  may  once  more  see  thee? 

Forget  not  friends. 

Amahnah. 

And  Samson  lifted  up  his  voice  feebly,  and  wept  a  little  for  the 
former  prophet.  Then  he  kissed  the  letter,  saying:  “What  a  pity,  O 
Amahnah,  that  thou  art  not  so  beautiful  as  is  she  which  wrote  at  the 
well.  Then  should  I  follow  the  mind  of  the  Chazzan,  and  so  be  thou 
wouldst  have  me,  would  espouse  thee.” 

Jeezer  thereupon  cried  out,  “Knowest  thou  who  it  was  with  whom 
thou  earnest  hither?  A  treacherous  woman,  priestess  unto  Dusares. 
And,  as  for  Azrikam,  hast  thou  no  more  of  a  lamentation  for  him  than 
this  ?  Her  beauty  is  that  of  the  fungus  growing  on  the  bodies  of  the 
dead,  and  she  is  all  hardness  of  heart.  Well  is  she  called  Gillul, 
which  meaneth  ‘  Stones,  ’  and  well  is  she  priestess  in  a  scarlet  city.  Be 
ye  therefore  wise,  and  suffer  her  not  to  mislead  thee,  but  take  heed, 
lest  by  a  stumbling  thou  shouldst  fall.  ’  ’ 

And  as  Samson  would  have  gone  upon  his  way,  Jeezer  saith  fur¬ 
ther:  “Whither  goest  thou?” 

Samson :  “About  the  streets  of  this  city,  and  then  to  the  house  of 
a  friend.” 

Jeezer:  “I  am  thy  friend.  Come,  abide  with  me.  What! 
Hearken,  give  good  heed  to  all  I  would  say. 

“0  my  dear  Son,  thou  hast  the  calling  of  a  priest.  Upon  thy 
bosom  is  a  sacred  locket.  Within  that  golden  sheath  are  three  rare 
pearls,  beside  the  credentials  of  thine  ancestry.  Adonai  is  one  and 
not  many,  and  one  and  not  many  El-Shaddai.  And  all  the  world  is 
full  of  harlotry  and  images.  Fare  not  unto  the  scarlet  woman,  but 
keep  thee  at  a  great  distance  from  her.  Follow  not  the  ways  of  those 


THE  FAILURE 


105 


who  worship  stones,  and  who  take  the  lives  of  innocents,  and  make 
priestesses  from  shameless  harlots. 

“Then  shalt  thon  indeed  be  as  a  priest  nnto  thy  people  and  unto 
all  the  world.  But,  if  thou  hearken  not,  then,  as  Betah  hath  said  unto 
thee,  there  shall  be  no  rest  for  the  sole  of  thy  foot.  And,  as  to  thy 
priesthood,  there  shall  come  another — 

“Draw  not  away  from  me,  but  be  submissive  to  counsel.  Wilt 
thou  be  accursed?  Take  here  the  oath  I  will  swear  before  thee. 
Swear !  Swear  that  never,  so  long  as  thou  shalt  be  in  scarlet  Edom, 
wilt  thou  look  again  upon  the  vile  priestess,  even  Gillul — swear. 
Swear  also  that  never,  so  long  as  thou  shalt  be  in  Edom,  wilt  thou 
look  upon  the  stone  of  Dusares — swear.  And  swear,  0  Son,  0  priest 
of  God  Almighty —  Swear,  0  swear.  Wilt  thou  not  swear?  Wilt 
thou  ever  be  breaking  away  from  me?  Go  not,  Son.  Swear —  My 
Son,  my  Son.” 

But  Samson-Solomon  was  sore  offended.  He  cried  backward  to 
Jeezer,  “Am  I  an  idolater?  Am  I  ignorant  of  God?  I  need  not 
ravings,  thou  who  art  mad.  The  Lord  is  known  unto  me,  as  well  as 
unto  thee.” 

Jeezer  wailed  after  him,  “Lo,  I  am  well  named  Jeezer,  for  I  am 
*  helpless  ’  indeed.  And,  as  for  thee,  0  Samson  of  Cyrene,  thou  shalt 
be  as  a  wanderer  and  shalt  know  no  rest  for  the  sole  of  thy  foot.  Hath 
not  Betah  informed  thee  ?  Remember  when  the  day  shall  come.  Amid 
the  nations  where  thou  wanderest,  there  shall  be  unto  thee  no  abiding 
place  at  all.  And  there  shall  rest  upon  thee  a  curse,  as  well  as  a 
blessing.  And  when  Messiah — ” 

The  Rabbi  cast  dust  on  his  head,  and  returned  to  his  house. 

But  Samson  went  about  the  streets  of  scarlet  Edom,  hardened  of 
heart  and  angered,  amidst  the  comings  and  the  goings  of  caravans. 
He  sold  his  horse,  and  fared  upon  foot.  And,  as  he  fared  on  and  on, 
the  rocks  retired  and  the  valley  opened,  and  he  saw  the  wide  city  in 
its  glory  both  of  sin-black  rock,  and  of  pale,  sickly  rock,  and  of  rock 
of  the  color  of  men’s  bones,  and  of  mendacious  amethyst,  and  lustful 
heliotrope,  and  of  the  yellow  of  bright  gold,  and  the  colors  of  idola¬ 
trous  amaranth  and  ivy,  and  the  sapphire  blue  of  heaven  (but  fear¬ 
fully  clouded).  And  mostly  the  rocks  were  scarlet,  scarlet  and  red. 
And,  in  the  living  surfaces  of  these  colored  mountains,  he  beheld  the 
innumerable  fronts  of  houses,  temples,  tombs,  and  zigzag,  winding 
stairways.  And  all  were  carven  in  the  living  rock. 

He  said,  “Mine  eyes  for  color  are  dull,1  as  are  indeed  the  eyes  of 

1  “Jews  are  markedly  more  color  blind  than  their  neighbors.” — The  Jewish 
Encyclopedia,  I,  p.  620,  B. 


106 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


many  Jews,  but  thou,  0  Edom,  art  a  veritable  heaven  of  bright  color, 
and  my  soul  is  glorified  by  thee,  for  the  eye  is  the  window  of  the  soul. 
But  let  me  not  forget,  0  God  of  my  fathers,  that  the  beauty  of  Petra 
is  even  as  the  beauty  of  Gillul — Gillul  in  her  scarlet  cloak  and  full  of 
shame  and  all  manner  of  unrighteousness.  ’ 7 

He  prayed  again  to  be  delivered  from  temptation  as  toward  this 
scarlet  woman. 

Then  followed  he  the  windings  of  the  high  walls  of  the  valley, 
along  a  pavement  which  ran  beside  their  feet.  Astonished  and  sore 
amazed  was  he  at  the  countless  excavations,  the  lofty  beauty  of  their 
pillars,  their  pediments,  their  capitals  and  cornices,  their  files  on 
files  of  gleaming  statues. 

As  he  followed  the  wall  of  massive  rock  about  the  vast  oval  of  the 
city,  he  beheld  from  time  to  wondering  time,  immense  side  valleys, 
which  also  were  lined  with  tier  on  tier  of  temples,  tombs  and  dwell¬ 
ings,  beautifully  carven  and  flaming  to  the  enraptured  eye. 

Into  certain  of  these  side  valleys  he  turned,  still  wondering,  for, 
behold!  as  he  fared  on  farther  and  farther  into  the  branching  rifts 
within  the  mountains,  he  saw  to  right  and  to  left  innumerable  lesser 
gorges,  running  out  and  branching  also,  and  all  the  branchings  were 
lined  with  the  shining  fronts  of  tombs  and  of  temples  and  of  the 
houses  of  the  living. 

And  he  said,  “What  wonder  that  the  Greeks  call  Edom  ‘Petra/ 
which  meaneth  ‘a  rock/  or  that  the  inhabitants  of  this  city  (seeing 
that  they  know  no  better)  are  given  to  the  worship  of  stones.” 

He  climbed  a  zigzag  stairway,  which  was  carven  in  innumerable 
flights,  winding  among  splendid  houses,  and  went  on  up  to  the  top  of 
the  city ’s  rampart.  There  he  beheld  a  score  of  the  ‘  ‘  High  Places  ’  ’  of 
the  city,  with  altars  and  lavers,  platforms  for  dancing,  and  seats  for 
the  congregations. 

He  looked  off  southward,  in  the  way  of  Sinai.  And  behold,  there 
was  a  great  cloud  there.  And  innumerable  heat-lightnings  shot  across 
the  cloud.  He  stretched  his  hands  above  the  city,  and  cried:  “Ye 
Petrans!  Ye  are  like  unto  your  very  houses,  which  are  only  half  re¬ 
moved  and  cut  away  from  Nature.  Still  ye  worship  Nature  in  a 
stone,  learning  little  from  Jerusalem,  and  making  great  confusion  in 
your  minds — of  Nature  (which  is  creature  only)  with  Nature’s  Crea¬ 
tor,  which  is  God.” 

And  having  returned  to  the  parent  valley  where  the  greater  por¬ 
tion  of  the  carven  city  was,  he  beheld  that,  in  the  center  of  that  val¬ 
ley,  was  another  and  even  greater  city,  which  he  had  only  partly  be- 


THE  FAILURE 


107 


held  before,  constructed  of  buildings  that  were  not  cut  out  of  the 
living  rock,  but  were  set  and  builded  upward  by  the  hands  of  men. 

And  here,  in  the  streets  of  the  builded  and  not  carven  city,  were 
many  open  squares,  where  trampling  caravans  met,  coming  slowly  in, 
with  profit  or  with  loss,  some  from  Felix  Arabia,  some  from  Alexan¬ 
dria,  or  Joppa,  or  Damascus,  others  from  Mygdonia  and  Philadelphia, 
or  from  Persia,  Serica,  and  the  Other  East.  And  shelter  was  round 
these  humming  marts  for  all  the  beasts  that  had  come  in  from  the 
desert,  and  likewise  inns  for  the  masters  of  caravans  and  the  camel- 
drivers. 

The  masters,  he  saw,  set  their  freight  on  benches,  crying  it  to  the 
world  in  drowsy,  long-accustomed  voices — the  spices  of  India,  the 
balsam  and  myrrh  of  Hadramaut,  robust  slaves  and  rainbowed  pea¬ 
cocks,  carpets  and  bright  hangings  and  black  boxes  and  dull  gray 
sacks  of  silver  and  ivory  and  gold  (which  is  full  of  temptation)  and 
little  almug  trees  and  chattering  apes,  and  clinking  bags  of  cold,  hard 
precious  stones. 

And  Samson  marvelled  at  these  things,  likewise  at  the  great  ear¬ 
rings  of  the  men  and  the  chains  of  gold  upon  the  camels’  necks,  and 
the  wondrous  muscles  of  the  indolent  slaves  which  should  earn  much 
money  for  knowing  masters.  And  something  stirred  strangely  within 
him,  and  again  he  knew  not  what. 

And  he  went  on  farther,  about  the  busy  streets  and  markets  of 
the  great  city  of  stone,  in  the  midst  of  a  Babel  of  voices — where,  now, 
for  many  centuries,  only  the  prowling  Bedouin  and  the  lonely  bat 
inhabit.  All  the  rest  is  silence,  for  Petra  is  merely  the  tomb,  rather 
the  bleached-out  skeleton,  of  a  mighty  city  and  of  a  worship  which 
hath  been. 

Still  Samson  went  on.  The  motley  scenes  of  life  and  commercial 
activity  made  the  hours  short.  But  ever  he  appeared  to  himself  with¬ 
drawn  from  these  things,  though  in  the  midst  of  them — a  man  set 
apart  by  the  Lord,  and  solitary.  Yet  always  there  was  something 
stirred  within  him,  he  knew  not  what. 

Said  he  to  himself,  1 1  By  the  splendor  of  the  Holy  Temple,  such 
things  are  not  for  a  priest  of  the  Almighty.  ’  ’  He  went  therefore  and 
watched  a  band  of  acrobats  performing  at  the  corner  of  a  street.  One 
of  these,  nicknamed  “Opisthotonos,”  distorted  the  nature  of  his  be¬ 
ing,  for  he  threw  himself  backward  till  he  rested  merely  on  his  toes 
and  the  crown  of  his  head.  Then  he  trotted  with  mincing  steps 
round  about  a  tiny  circle  of  which  his  down-turned  head  was  the 
center. 

Samson  heard  a  near  voice,  “My  master  being  a  philosopher, 


108 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


knoweth  everything,  and  can  prove  that  anything  is  either  right  or 
wrong,  or  that  it  is  both  wrong  and  right  also,  either  at  different 
times  or  even  at  the  same  time.  He  is  better  with  his  mouth  than 
this  man  Opisthotonos  with  his  heels  and  his  head.  ’  ’ 

“Pooh!”  said  another  voice,  “my  master  is  a  skeptic.  The 
skeptics  are  philosophers  too,  and  they  have  shown  that  never  a 
man  can  know  anything  at  all.  He  is  much  admired  in  all  the 
corners  of  this  city,  yea  even  in  Alexandria  also.” 

“Alexandria!”  cried  the  first  voice,  in  deepest  scorn.  “Alexan¬ 
dria  !  Why  my  master,  though  he  cometh  never  adown  from  yonder 
lofty  height  whereon  he  dwelleth,  is  known  in  all  the  corners  of  the 
universe,  even  in  far  off — ” 

“Known  for  a  fool!”  returned  the  other  slave  in  anger.  “Do 
not  all  men  understand  that  he  worshippeth  not  knowledge,  but  only 
the  name  of  having  it?  Well,  therefore,  is  he  denominated  ‘  Philo¬ 
stephanus,  ’  for  that — ” 

But  Samson  turned  upon  the  slaves,  and  inquired  of  them,  “Do 
ye  truly  know  the  house  of  Philostephanus,  and  can  ye  shew  it  me?” 

Now  he  that  was  servant  unto  Philostephanus,  made  answer: 
“My  name  is  ‘Stupidus,’  and  I  am  slave  to  him  thou  seekest — that 
great  master.  See!  I  will  shew  you  his  house.” 

And  he  went  a  little  way  with  him,  and  said:  “Seest  thou  the 
steps  that  rise  above  yon  fountain?  Those  are  the  steps  that  are 
taken  by  them  that  go  up  unto  him.  See  how  they  zigzag  unto 
dizzy  heights,  crossing  and  re-crossing,  anon  disappearing  into  tunnels 
— follow  thou  my  finger  still — and  yet  reappearing  in  the  scarlet 
light  and  again  darting  into  deep  wells  of  darkness — seest  thou?” 

Samson  said,  “I  see,  though  it  is  bewildering.” 

Continued  Stupidus,  “Then  comest  thou  out  at  length  on  yon 
level  platform.  Great  and  high  and  white  and  cold  it  is  up  thither. 
And  just  at  the  back  of  the  platform  is  his  house,  a  retired  strange 
look  all  about  it.  Now  I  must  be  gone  to  get  my  master  parchment.  ’ ’ 

Samson,  with  a  quiver  at  his  heart,  went  up  the  winding  rocks, 
higher  and  higher,  dizzier  and  more  dizzy,  and  with  ever  greater 
difficulty  to  find  his  way,  until  he  had  come  at  length  unto  the  lofty- 
pillared  porch  which  formed  the  cold  and  carven  front  of  the  house 
of  Philostephanus — this  man  which  bore  a  certain  relationship  unto 
Lampadephorus. 

The  winds  sang  very  lonely  in  this  lofty  place. 

And  Samson  turned  and  saw  the  city  all  below  him.  Even  the 
tombs  and  the  dwellings  and  the  temples  that  were  cut  the  highest 


THE  FAILURE  109 

in  the  rocks,  were  all  below  the  calmly  supercilious  house  of  Philo¬ 
stephanus. 

Samson’s  heart  misgave  him.  But,  placing  his  hand  within  his 
bosom,  he  felt  of  the  letter  which  he  had  received  from  Lampa- 
dephorus.  Taking  courage  again,  he  knocked  at  the  calmly  echoing 
doors  of  Philostephanus. 


CHAPTER  XYI 
Christmas  Before  Christ 

Samson-Solomon  of  Cyrene  was  let  into  Philostephanus ’s  house, 
and  then  was  shown  unto  the  great  owner  thereof,  who,  having  read 
the  letter  of  the  lamp-bearer,  said  unto  the  Jew:  “Thou  art  indeed 
more  than  wlcome  here,  not  merely  for  thine  own  sake  but  also  for 
the  sake  of  him  that  sent  thee.” 

And  the  Jew  took  up  his  inn  in  the  house  of  Philostephanus,  and 
studied  with  that  man  many  days.  And  they  had  much  converse 
at  times  about  the  Greek.  But  never  did  Philostephanus  descend 
the  zigzag  stairway  to  the  haunts  of  common  men. 

Now  Philostephanus  was  tall,  slight,  and  very  pale  and  purblind. 
And  ever  he  looked  like  one  that  peered  out  into  a  thick  fog  or 
darkness. 

He  had  once  had  a  wife,  so  said  he  to  the  Jew,  Philosophia,  dead 
these  many  years,  by  whom  he  had  had  two  daughters  (and  these 
he  presented  in  due  season  unto  Samson)  Solitudo,  by  name,  and 
Arrogantia.  These  would  sit  in  the  rocky  yard  before  their  father’s 
residence,  for  long,  long  hours,  leaning  over  the  parapet  and  gazing 
steadfastly  into  the  nether  city ;  Solitudo  crying,  at  intervals,  ‘  ‘  I  am 
so  lonely — would  that  a  crowd  were  come,”  and  Arrogantia  answer¬ 
ing,  “Better  be  contented,  Sister,  than  to  mingle  with  the  vulgar 
multitude.”  And  up  would  go  her  eyebrows  yet  a  little  further. 
Sometimes,  as  she  leaned  across  the  rocky  parapet,  she  voided  her 
spittle  on  the  common  crowd  beneath. 

And  Philostephanus  informed  the  J ew  that  these  were  not  all  the 
children  which  he  had  had,  but  that,  having,  in  years  gone  by,  now 
and  then  condescended  to  ramble  among  the  huts  and  cottages  of  the 
lower  city,  there,  on  a  time,  he  had  had,  by  a  slattern,  Multitudo,  an 
illegitimate  and  unworthy  daughter  whom  he  had  come  to  know  as 
Indignitas.  Since  which  time  he  had  lived  retired  in  his  rocky 
mansion,  far  away  from  noise,  strife,  and  all  the  rudeness  and 
ignorance  of  the  common  people.  “They  value  my  little  learning 


110 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


vastly  more,”  said  he,  “for  that  I  dwell  away  from  them  and  live 
upon  a  height.” 

And  space  and  time  and  matter  and  the  origin  of  things  were 
all  discussed  by  the  proud  and  learned  Philostephanus,  hut  to  the 
Jew,  it  seemed  that  his  erudite  friend  had  little  affection  either  for 
one  view  or  for  another,  if  only  his  hearer  would  applaud  either  the 
learning  or  the  eloquence  of  his  master. 

On  a  day,  when,  as  it  happened,  the  Master  would  teach  his 
disciple  in  the  outer  air,  then  went  he  and  Solomon  forth  to  the 
rocky,  fenced-in  space  which  there  was  before  the  mansion. 

And  here  they  sate  in  learned  leisure  for  a  while  near  the  dizzy 
edge,  gazing  down  on  humming  marts  and  silent  tombs,  and  the 
frivolous  sounds  of  men,  men  who  were  stuttering  and  fretting  away 
their  noisy  hour  before  they,  too,  were  gathered  into  the  calmness 
and  stillness  of  the  rocks. 

Then  said  Philostephanus,  of  a  sudden:  “I  would  ask  thee  as 
about  Messiah,  0  Jew,  for  many  of  our  philosophers  have  spoken 
concerning  him,  and  I  am  troubled  deeply.  ’  ’ 

But  the  J ew  rose  up,  and  craved  his  pardon,  and  descended  to  the 
lower  city,  for  he  said  in  his  heart:  “I  have  heretofore  suffered 
when  I  spake  of  our  religion.  Why  now  should  I  do  that  dangerous 
thing  again?” 

And  when  he  had  come  to  the  market  place,  he  heard  a  master 
of  a  caravan  complaining:  “Woe  is  me!  That  only  I  had  a  dozen 
jars  of  oil,  or  ere  I  start  out  into  the  desert!  I  would  give  half  a 
silver  talent  for  an  even  dozen — scarce  as  oil  is  here  among  the  rocks. 
But  oil  cannot  be  had.” 

The  Jew  said  unto  him,  “Wouldst  thou  even  so?” 

The  man  said,  1  i  Even  so.  For  I  have  sought  in  all  the  shops  of 
Petra,  and  oil  is  not  to  be  had.  Hast  thou  oil?” 

The  Jew  said,  “Wait.” 

For  he  had  heard,  ere  this,  of  a  rich  man  of  the  city,  who  was 
not  a  merchant  but  who  had  gathered  too  much  oil.  And  he  went 
to  that  man,  saying:  “Hast  thou  oil,  and  wilt  thou  part  with  it?” 

“Even  so,”  said  the  man. 

And  Solomon  paid  for  the  oil  a  quarter  of  a  talent  of  silver. 

And  he  brought  together  him  that  wanted  to  gather  oil  and 
him  that  wanted  to  part  with  oil.  And  both  they  twain  were  glad, 
yet  the  Jew  had  gained  for  himself  a  quarter  of  a  talent  also.  He 
said,  “There  were  great  joy  for  me  in  this,  were  I  not  chosen  for 
El-Shaddai.” 

1 1  Chosen  thou  art,  ’ 9  said  a  sweet  voice  near  by. 


THE  FAILURE 


111 


Turning,  he  beheld  Gillul,  priestess  of  Dusares,  coming  in  sober 
garments.  “I  would  learn  of  thee  concerning  El-Shaddai,  0  Jew. 
Teach  me.” 

Said  he,  4 ‘Where?” 

“At  my  house.” 

He  declareth,  “  I  do  fear  thy  house,  for  it  is  the  house  of  death. ’  9 

She  said,  ‘  ‘  Thou  meanest  that  it  is  the  house  of  an  idolatress.  ’  ’ 

Said  he,  “That  mean  I.” 

She  answered  and  said  unto  him,  “Wouldst  thou  have  it  so 
remain,  or  wouldst  thou  change  it?” 

But  he,  remembering  Temunah  and  Emah,  would  nowise  go  with 

her. 

She,  on  another  day,  having  come  yet  again  to  the  oil  market, 
and  finding  there  the  Jew,  said  unto  him  again:  “I  would  learn 
of  thee  concerning  El-Shaddai.” 

But  he  answered,  “Have  I  not  already  said  to  thee  I  would  have 
naught  to  do  with  thee  ?  ’  ’ 

“I  have  another  purpose  this  time  in  that  I  ask  thee  to  my 
house.  Thy  Law,  saith  it  not :  ‘  An  eye  for  an  eye,  a  tooth  for  a 
tooth  V  ” 

“It  saith  it.” 

“And  saith  it  not  also,  ‘He  that  blasphemeth  the  name  of  the 
Lord,  he  shall  surely  be  put  to  death’?” 

“It  saith  even  that  also.” 

“Hast  thou  not,”  then  asked  Gillul,  “an  enemy  that  hath  so 
blasphemed,  making  a  jest  both  of  God  and  of  God’s  temple  and  of 
all  the  things  which  are  God’s — even  God’s  priests?” 

Samson  said,  “Yea.  I  am  a  revenger  to  execute  justice  upon 
him.  In  the  name  of  the  Lord  God,  I  will  have  upon  him  a  full 
revenge.  ’  ’ 

Said  Gillul,  “I  have  heard  of  thee  and  thy  just  revenge,  and  he 
whom  thou  dost  seek  is  here  in  Petra.  I  also  do  need  revenge  upon 
him — for  he  hath  mocked  at  my  religion  too.  Come  to  my  house 
therefore  on  this  night,  when  the  redness  of  the  sun  is  still  upon 
the  redness  of  the  rocks,  and  I  will  lead  thee  straightway  unto  him, 
that  thou  mayest  kill  him,  having  thy  just  revenge,  I  mine  also.  ’  ’ 

Said  Solomon  with  a  shout,  “Is  it  verily  so?  I  will  be  at  thy 
house  when  the  redness  of  the  sun  is  still  upon  the  redness  of  the 
rocks,  and  thou  shalt  show  the  Mocker  unto  me.” 

“I  will  show  him  unto  thee,”  said  Gillul.  “But  to  do  this  thing 
I  shall  have  sore  need  to  take  thee  by  a  secret  stair  unto  a  secret 
High  Place.  ’  ’ 


112 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


Samson  said,  “What  matter?  Can  I  not  climb  a  stair?  Show 
me  Trivialis.  ” 

She:  “Thou  art  a  true  man.  I  will  await  thee.  Lo!  yonder  in 
the  scarlet  stone  live  I — the  house  with  the  lofty  pillars,  next  to  the 
one  that  is  carven  in  great  blackness.’ ’ 

And  he  looked,  and  saw,  and  remembered  the  place. 

And,  awaiting  the  time,  he  gave  great  alms  and  was  high 
compassionate  unto  many,  even  unto  them  that  had  by  their  own 
countrymen  been  neglected.  For  such  was  the  use  and  custom  of 
his  people  everywhere,  in  whatsoever  land  or  nation  they  might  be. 

And  when  the  red  light  of  the  sun  was  yet  upon  the  redness  of  the 
rocks,  he  climbed  the  crooked  stairway  to  Gillul ’s  house,  and  knocked, 
and  was  straightway  admitted  to  the  dwelling. 

And  when  he  was  set,  then  came  forth  Gillul,  still  in  sober  gar¬ 
ments,  saying:  “It  lacketh  yet  a  little  ere  I  can  take  thee  to 
Trivialis.  And  when  the  time  is  come,  a  horn  will  sound.  By  that 
we  shall  know.  Meanwhile,  teach  thou  me  Adonai.” 

She  cast  herself  passionately  upon  the  stone  floor  at  his  feet, 
crying:  “See!  I  would  learn  at  thy  feet,  for  long  have  I  wished 
to  know.” 

And  Samson  remembered  his  pride  concerning  this  matter  before 
Philostephanus,  but  behold,  the  woman  was  very  beautiful,  and  he 
loved  her  exceedingly. 

He  therefore  opened  his  mouth  and  taught  her  (for  he  asked  in 
his  soul,  Should  I  be  as  Jonah,  and  neglect  to  teach  the  heathen?). 

He  said  therefore  unto  her,  “See!  there  is  but  one  God,  and  He 
hath  chosen  Israel  for  his  priests.  Even  now  go  I  up  unto  J erusalem, 
where  I  shall  be  admitted  to  the  High  Priest,  there  to  show  my 
locket,  in  which  is  my  credential  to  my  priesthood.  And  he  will 
take  me  to  the  Hall  of  Polished  Stones,  in  the  presence  of  the  San¬ 
hedrim,  and  when  they  have  read  my  parchment  and  have  seen  me 
that  I  have  no  flaw,  they  will  wholly  array  me  in  a  shining  garment, 
and  will  write  my  name  in  the  book  in  which  that  name  should  be.” 

He  said  also,  “And  God  is  wholly  good,  and  wholly  wise,  and 
wholly  powerful.  Yet  is  he  a  jealous  God  too,  and  will  have  no 
other  gods  before  Him. 

“Adonai  hateth  sin,  as  do  all  men — but  some  are  sore  perverted 
in  their  natures.  And  the  gods  of  the  heathen,  the  Elilim,  are  not 
as  the  God  of  the  Hebrews — Adonai,  El-Shaddai.  For  they  are 
workers  of  iniquity,  and  lure  the  hearts  of  men  from  truth  and 
righteousness.  They  are  adversaries  of  the  Savior  from  sin,  servants 
unto  Satan.” 


THE  FAILURE 


113 


Said  then  Gillul,  “Do  ye  not  indeed  worship  the  Lord  with 
images,  and  have  ye  not  a  place  that  is  high,  even  (as  I  have  heard) 
on  Mount  Moriah  V’ 

Samson  said  unto  her,  “Ye  mean,  Have  we  not  altar,  court,  and 
laver,  even  as  ye  have,  and  show  we  not  in  shadows  in  our  Temple 
the  things  that  are  not  of  sense — even  as  ye  do?  But  none  of  the 
things  at  all  which  are  in  the  Temple  do  we  worship.  They  are  only 
allegories — pictures  of  things  unseen,  which  things  then  the  peoples, 
having  beheld  the  pictures,  may  understand.  But  there  is  no  picture 
of  El-Shaddai  there.  He  is  beyond  all  picturing.  He  and  His 
infinite  attributes  also — His  tenderness,  His  mercy,  His  righteousness, 
His  truth,  His  peace,  His  love.” 

The  Jew  fell  silent.  And  a  man  that  was  a  slave  in  Gillul ’s 
household,  having  overheard  these  things,  grew  deeply  concerned. 
In  after  years,  having  been  freed,  he  went  up  to  Jerusalem,  where 
he  became  a  proselyte  to  righteousness.  Going  into  many  places, 
he  taught  that  salvation  is  of  the  Jews,  and  brought  many  others 
also  unto  God,  until  at  length  Jehovah,  who  long  had  loved  him  and 
supported  him  in  fleshly  tribulations,  reached  forth  and  took  him 
home. 

Even  the  priestess,  Gillul,  because  of  the  things  she  had  just 
listened  to,  thought:  “Would  that  I  were  now  as  this  excellent  Jew 
is — though  not  so  easily  misled.” 

She  bent  her  head  in  deepest  consideration,  and  out  of  her  bosom 
fell  a  letter,  that  which  she  had  had  from  Ophidion. 

She  caught  it  quickly  up,  and  was  covered  with  blushes.  Yet 
she  put  the  letter  back  into  her  bosom,  saying:  “Let  us  go  without, 
and  sit  upon  the  terraced  place,  until  the  horn  doth  sound.” 

And  they  went  and  sate  without,  and  looked  down  into  the  city. 
And  Samson  heard  distinctly  the  tinkling  of  the  rings  about  the 
camels’  necks,  and  beheld  a  multitude  of  torches  moving  about  the 
irradiated  streets.  After  a  time  he  beheld  many  a  light  that  was 
fixed,  and  moved  not.  Gillul,  who  saw  this  also,  said  unto  him: 
“See!  It  is  just  a  little  after  the  winter  solstice,  and  the  time  is 
sacred  to  Dusares.  There  are  lights  on  all  the  housetops,  where 
much  of  the  people  worship,  and  these  lights  move  not.  But  also 
a  multitude  is  going  toward  the  greatest  of  the  High  Places — for 
there  the  truest  worship  of  our  god  is.  ’  ’ 

Then  said  Samson,  “On  a  time  will  come  Messiah,  and  all  these 
things  shall  pass.” 

“Cometh  He  with  a  sword?” 

8 


114 


SIMON  OF  GYRENE 


“He  cometli  with  a  sword.’ ’  And  Samson-Solomon  dreamed  in 
the  presence  of  the  priestess  and  with  wide-waking  eyes. 

“If  He  come,”  fared  on  the  woman,  “He  may  not  bring  a 
sword — so  say  Babylonian  magi.  Moreover,  if  so  He  came,  then 
mightest  thon,  0  most  stiffnecked  person,  resist  Him.  Thou  art  a 
man  set  in  all  thy  ways,  and  never  a  one  can  bend  thee — so  be  thou 
like  Him  not.” 

“I  shall  like  Messiah,”  said  Samson,  “I  will  worship  Him.  If 
He  come  or  ere  I  die,  I  shall  see  Him  in  the  flesh,  will  touch  the 
border  of  His  sacred  garment  with  my  fingers,  listen  to  His  holy 
words  with  these  my  very  ears,  and,  when  He  biddeth  me  arise,  I 
will  kiss  Him  on  each  cheek.” 

A  horn  sounded. 

Gillul  arose,  saying:  “Let  us  mount  to  the  High  Place.  Come, 
let  us  mount.” 

They  ascended  with  torches  up  the  scarlet  rocks,  and  went  to  a 
secret  high  place  of  Dusares. 

There  they  extinguished  their  flames,  for  the  rites  to  the  god 
Dusares  were  ever  to  be  performed  beneath  the  quivering  gods  of 
heaven. 

Took  she  that  was  priestess  unto  Dusares  Samson  of  Cyrene  up 
before  the  silent  congregation,  and  set  him  before  them  by  an  unhewn 
stone  that  was  sacred  to  Dusares.  But  the  Jew  said  unto  her,  “I 
see  not  Trivialis” — for  he  thought  alone  of  a  great  revenge  on  him 
that  had  been  a  scoffer  at  Adonai. 

The  priestess  answered  and  said  unto  him,  “Be  content.  Thou 
shalt  see  Trivialis.”  She  laughed  sweetly. 

And  she  summoned  a  trembling  father  up  before  the  congregation, 
who  had  with  him  a  little  child.  Them  twain  set  she  down  before 
the  unhewn  stone.1 

Said  she  to  the  father,  “This  is  December  25.  What  hast  thou 
as  a  gift  unto  Dusares  ?  ’  ’ 

Said  he,  “I  have  my  child.” 

“Dost  thou  give  him  freely?”  then  asked  she. 

The  father  choked,  and  looked  on  his  child  weeping.  Yet  he  said, 
“Ido.  I  do  give  him  freely.  ” 

Cried  Gillul,  “Hither,  0  priest  of  sacrifices.” 

A  man  robed  in  white  came  from  an  excavation  in  the  mountain, 

1  For  the  ritual  employed  in  the  worship  of  Dusares  (Dhu  'sh-Shara)  see,  among 
other  authorities,  Hastings,  “Encyclopedia  of  Religion  and  Ethics,”  I,  pp.  663  and 
665  (both  columns)  ;  also  Wellhauseu,  “Reste  Arabischen  Heidenthums,”  zweite 
Ausgabe,  Berlin,  1897,  pp.  48-51  and  101-147. 


THE  FAILURE 


115 


having  in  his  hand  a  great  blade.  Whereat  the  child  did  scream  and 
press  his  head  against  his  father’s  bosom. 

“Father!” 

“What,  0  my  son?” 

‘ ‘ Lovest  thou  me?” 

“Assuredly,  my  son.  I  have  always  loved  thee  better  than  my  own 
soul :  thou  art  unto  me  first  and  last  and  only.  ’  ’ 

“Who  then  will  be  thy  son,  dear  Father,  when  I  am  gone?  Thou 
madest  for  me  a  little  black  tent.  And  who  will  be  my  mother’s? 
Art  thou  sure  that  this  is  right,  0  my  father  ?  ’  ’ 

“  It  is  right,  ’  ’  said  the  father.  ‘  ‘  My  son,  it  is  very  right.  Dusares 
demandeth  it.” 

“Dusares  doth  indeed  demand  it,”  said  in  a  low,  dead  tone  the 
white  priest.  And  he  signed  to  the  congregation,  which  arose  and 
began  singing,  that  the  god,  Dusares,  might  be  unable  to  hear  the 
screaming  of  the  child,  and,  being  offended  by  this,  reject  the 
sacrifice. 

The  priest  plucked  up  the  child  out  of  its  father’s  bosom,  and 
cut  its  throat,  and  the  blood  spouted. 

And  the  father  fell  straight  down  on  the  rocky  ground. 

But  the  priest  took  blood  upon  his  hand,  and,  smearing  the  stone 
with  it,  cried  out  above  the  congregation:  “We  come  unto  thee, 
Dusares!  We  come,  we  come.” 

And  he  moistened  the  soil  about  the  stone  with  the  blood  of  the 
child,  and,  digging  a  hole  beneath  the  stone,  did  lay  the  child’s  body 
therein,  and  so  buried  it. 

And  the  congregation  (Philostephanus  among  them)  left  their 
places,  and  wildly  marched  around  the  stone,  crying:  “We  come, 
Dusares !  Great  is  Dusares !  Holy  is  Dusares !  We  come,  we  come !  ’  ’ 

Some  did  pass  their  hands  both  on  and  over  the  stone,  some  lay 
down  and  kissed  it.  All  were  barefoot,  carrying,  each,  his  shoes 
in  his  hands. 

And  Samson  of  Cyrene  was  deeply  stirred  in  his  soul. 

Thought  he,  “Surely  a  sacrifice  like  this  which  I  have  seen,  were 
acceptable  to  Adonai.  And  surely  Adonai  is  in  this  stone,  for  else 
would  a  people  which  is  mighty  worship  such  a  thing?  But  these 
do  call  Adonai  by  another  name  than  do  I — which  is  Dusares.  And 
that  is  all  the  difference  between  them  and  me.  ’  ’ 

And  he  stripped  him  of  his  shoes,  and  took  them  in  his  hand,  and 
marched  with  the  other  people  round  about  the  stone,  crying  “Great 
is  Dusares!”  And  he  felt  of  the  stone,  and  lay  on  the  ground  and 
kissed  the  stone. 


116 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


CHAPTER  XVII 
Simon  of  Cyrene 

The  people  went  back  to  their  places. 

Then  Gillul,  priestess  of  Dusares,  came  hither  again,  and,  taking 
a  goblet  of  rich  old  wine,  offered  it  to  the  Jew,  saying:  “Drink, 
and  become  as  one  with  him  we  worship  in  the  stone.  Thon  needest 
not  to  renounce  Adonai.  ’  ’ 

But  he  would  not  drink,  saying:  “Let  me  first  kill  Trivialis. 
Then  will  I  drink  either  unto  thee  or  unto  Hell.  ’ 9 

So  she  said,  “See!  How  little  it  is  thou  wilt  do  for  me  and  for 
Dusares!  But  I — behold  thou  me,” 

She  threw  her  garments  off.  Even  to  perfect  nakedness  cast  she 
them  away. 

And  she  ran  to  an  elevated  platform,  and  there,  in  honor  of 
Dusares,  danced  and  danced  again. 

And  the  people  shouted  wild  acclaim.  And  Samson  of  Cyrene 
looked  upon  her  grace  with  gladness. 

But  she,  beholding,  danced  as  never  woman  danced  before,  crying : 
“Is  not  my  religion  quite  as  good  as  thine,  and  any  religion  whatso¬ 
ever  quite  as  good  as  any  other  ? 9  ’ 

And  all  the  congregation  cast  their  clothes  aside,  and  wildly 
shrieked,  and  danced  also. 

But  when  the  priestess  had  left  off  dancing,  she  came  and  stood 
anigh  the  J ew,  gazing  upon  that  man  with  eyes  full  of  ancient  dreams. 

And  a  swift  fire  ran  about  his  body,  his  nostrils  dilated,  a  wide 
roaring  filled  his  ears.  He  reached  his  mighty  arms  out  unto  her. 

But  she  pushed  him  back,  crying:  “Not  till  thou  hast  drunken. 
Little  wilt  thou  do  either  for  me  or  for  Dusares,  thou  Jew.” 

And  she  took  and  offered  him  wine  a  second  time. 

He  drank. 

She  offered  him  yet  another  goblet.  But  he  said,  “What!  Shall 
a  Jew  become  a-drunken  ?  By  the  splendor  of  Jehovah —  By  my  very 
people — 99 

The  air  began  to  grow  sluggish,  to  turn  thick,  to  be  a  mere 
suffocating  power.  All  that  passed  about  him  was  floating  into  a 
dream.  As  he  knew  that  he  was  falling,  he  struggled  into  great 
repentance,  thinking  dimly:  “Lord,  let  me  live,  that  I  may  punish 
many  evil-doers,  and  fall  no  more  from  thy  righteousness.”  But  he 
knew  not  truly  when  he  fell. 


THE  FAILURE 


117 


And  she  had  a  number  of  strong  men  carry  the  body  aside.  And 
she  accompanied  it. 

Then  gloated  she  above  it,  saying:  “Thou,  therefore,  which 
would  teach  many  nations,  teach  thou  thyself.  Professing  to  be  wise, 
thou  hast  become  a  fool.” 

She  jerked  the  locket  from  his  neck,  crying:  “Ophidion,  at 
length  I  have  secured  for  thee  the  precious  theca  thou  hast  so  long 
desired.  ’  * 

Came  in  her  mind  an  image  of  Ophidion,  the  only  man  which  held 
in  his  grip  her  heart.  But  also  she  was  glad  in  her  soul  that  a  god 
of  her  own  country  had  come  to  triumph  in  this  matter.  “Thou, 
Ophidion,  great  and  bright  and  beautiful  as  thou  art,  and  in  every 
way  admirable,  thou  hast  yet  no  pride  at  all  in  Petra,  as  have  I. 
Thou  art  too  much  of  the  world  at  large — so  much  of  space  thou 
needest  for  the  play  of  thy  great  abilities. — But,  though  I 
triumph  with  the  triumph  of  my  country’s  god,  yet  thou  alone  it 
is  I  worship,  not  Dusares.  With  all  my  blood  and  all  my  bones  I 
worship  thee,  as  doth  Dusares  him  that  is  thy  master,  even  Satan.” 

Now,  all  this  while  Ophidion  was  in  a  corner  of  far-off  Spain, 
laughing  at  the  love  which  Gillul  bore  unto  him,  and  swearing  by 
all  the  blood  which  had  ever  been  shed  on  the  stone  of  Dusares,  that 
he  would  use  this  woman  to  his  advantage.  “And  when  I  have  done 
with  her,  I  will  cast  her  away,  and  she  shall  be  unto  me  only  laughter 
and  a  by -word.” 

But  Gillul  took  the  locket  from  the  sleeping  Jew,  and  having  long 
endeavored  with  it,  opened  it. 

But  behold,  there  were  no  pearls  contained  in  it  at  all.  Whereat 
she  raged  for  a  long  time,  vainly. 

Yet  she  found  in  the  locket  a  little  parchment,  rolled  up  in  a 
very  tiny  scroll.  And  having  unrolled  the  scroll,  she  first  beheld  the 
genealogy  of  the  Jew,  and,  after  that,  these  words:  “The  rightful 
name  of  the  bearer  of  this  locket,  it  is  therefore  Samson,  which  is 
also  Solomon,  for  behold  he  is  a  marvel  both  of  bodily  strength  and 
endurance  and  also  of  wisdom  and  of  peace.  And  he  is  truly 
entitled  to  the  priesthood  at  Jerusalem.” 

And  she  hid  the  parchment  in  her  own  bosom,  laughing  scornfully, 
and  saying:  “Ophidion,  I  will  do  much  better  than  merely  to  send 
the  locket  and  the  parchment  unto  thee.  I  will  also  fool  the  Jew.” 

She  wrote  therefore  on  another  piece  of  parchment  (and  without 
any  genealogy) :  “The  rightful  name  of  the  bearer  of  this  locket,  it 
is  Simon  (or  ‘favorable  hearing’).  For  behold,  he  hath  given  his 


118 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


favors  freely  to  priestesses  both  of  adultery  and  of  blood.  He  is 
therefore  nowise  entitled  to  the  priesthood  at  Jerusalem.” 

Then  rolled  she  the  newer  parchment  into  a  scroll,  as  it  were  the 
old  one,  and  placed  it  in  the  locket,  and  closed  the  locket  tight  again, 
and  placed  the  chain  thereof  about  the  neck  of  Samson — so  that, 
haply,  he,  finding  the  locket  still  upon  his  bosom  when  he  again 
awoke,  might  fondle  it  and  be  satisfied. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 
Abaddone 

On  the  morning  of  the  morrow,  Samson,  awakening,  attempted  to 
rise.  But  his  limbs  were  weak  and  weary.  He  lay  at  a  little  distance 
from  Petra,  in  a  wilderness  of  rocks. 

Then  he  remembered  all  that  had  happened  till  he  had  drunken 
the  wine. 

Said  he,  “Accursed  be  idolatry  forevermore.  Accursed  be  all 
worshippers  of  beasts  and  of  stones  and  of  images,  and  doers  of  all 
manner  of  uncleanness  and  of  murder  in  the  names  of  gods.  Accursed 
be  ye  and  your  iniquities,  all  of  you.  Accursed  be  idolatry  forever, 
and  all  that  have  to  do  with  it,  world  without  end.” 

After  a  time  he  managed  to  rise,  yet  fared  but  a  little  distance, 
and,  for  the  weakness  of  his  limbs,  fell  down  into  the  shadow  of  a 
mighty  rock,  where,  once  more,  he  slept,  and  sorrowfully  dreamed. 

And  he  thought  (as  he  dreamed)  that  he  sate  again  on  the  rock 
before  the  house  of  Gillul.  The  horn  sounded.  She  gat  her  up  to 
go  unto  the  High  Place  of  Dusares.  But  Samson,  not  arising,  said 
unto  her :  ‘  ‘  Hold !  I  do  remember  that,  in  the  weary  hours  of  sleep 
last  night  I  dreamed  a  dream  as  concerning  my  father’s  steward, 
Trivialis.  I  dreamed,  and  behold  I  thought  that  the  man  had 
attempted  to  rob  me  as  I  lay  on  my  couch,  courting  slumber.  I 
believed  he  had  taken  the  locket  which  thou  dost  see  upon  my  breast, 
and  in  which  are  the  sure  credentials  of  my  priesthood.  So  I  quickly 
rose,  and  smote  him  that  he  fell.  Dying,  cried  he :  ‘  Forgive.  ’ 

“And  behold!  as  I  sought  to  open  the  poor  clasped  fingers,  they 
held  no  locket,  but  only  a  venomous  serpent  which  truly  it  was  that 
the  steward  of  my  father  had  taken  from  my  breast.” 

“  ’Twas  but  a  dream,”  saith  Gillul. 

“Aye,  but  there  is  ofttime  truth  in  visions.  For  when  the  soul, 
slumbering,  beginneth  to  play  with  the  long  day’s  relics  of  reality — ” 

Then  brake  she  in  upon  him,  “Art  thou  a  fool?  What  would 


THE  FAILURE 


119 


Philostephanus  say?  or,  better,  that  bright-haired  Lampadephorus 
whom  thou  didst  weep  for  just  without  the  hills  of  Petra?  Would 
he  not  have  declared — ” 

But  Solomon  cried,  “Let  us  go.” 

So  they  rose  and  went. 

And  over  and  over  again  he  dreamed  this  weary  and  untrue 
dream — a  dream  in  which  he  should  have  followed  the  promptings 
of  yet  another  dream,  but  did  not  so. 

And  once  again  he  awoke.  And  first  he  gat  him  on  his  knees, 
then  on  his  feet. 

And  he  saw  Jeezer,  that  helpless  man  of  God,  approaching.  And 
Samson,  when  he  saw  the  prophet,  was  wroth,  and  said  unto  him: 
“What  have  I  to  do  with  thee,  begetter  of  evil  intention?  Get  hence. 
’Twas  thou  that  didst  awaken  in  me  the  wish  to  behold  Dusares.  For 
the  more  I  desire  to  behold  the  Lord,  the  more  my  heart  inclineth  to 
idolatry.  ’  ’ 

Said  the  Rabbi  unto  him,  “Woe  unto  me  when  a  man  I  love  shall 
call  me  a  begetter  of  evil  intention,  and  shall  make  me  the  cause  of  his 
unrighteousness.  Why  hast  thou  not  Amahnah  with  thee?  Thou 
shouldst  then  be  free  from  idolatry  altogether.” 

Samson  thereupon  gathered  together  stones,  and  began  to  stone 
the  holy  man,  so  that  Jeezer  was  fain  to  flee  for  his  life.  Which  he 
did,  and  cried:  “Lord,  Lord!  He  is  a  priest,  and  yet  will  not  hear 
thy  voice  by  me.  If  thou  thyself  wouldst  only  come !  ’ ’ 

But  Samson  of  Cyrene,  the  unhappy  scroll-bearer,  shook  the  dust 
of  Petra  from  his  sandals,  and  departed  straightway  into  the  desert, 
following  for  a  time  the  wake  of  caravans,  and  afterwards  going 
quite  alone. 

And  having  lifted  up  his  feet  for  many  days,  he  came  to  Hebron, 
which  is  in  the  Land.  There  he  abode  at  an  inn. 

And  awakening  on  the  morrow,  he  set  off  toward  Jerusalem,  being 
a-minded  to  present  his  credentials  to  the  High  Priest. 

But  coming,  after  a  time,  upon  a  fellow  of  jovial  appearance,  he 
said  in  his  heart:  “Behold!  this  man  seemeth  pleasant  enough.  I 
will  accost  him,  and,  so  be  he  will  have  me,  become  his  companion.  ’  ’ 

He  cryeth  to  the  man,  “Hail  there,  companion  of  the  agreeable 
smile.  My  name  is  Samson-Solomon,  of  Cyrene.  Thine?” 

“It  is  Kakon  Hypomnema,”  said  the  fellow,  who  embraced  and 
kissed  him  speedily. 

Thereupon  they  twain  fell  into  talk.  And  when  they  had  got  but  a 
few  miles,  behold!  each  was  relating  to  the  other  the  delights  of 


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SIMON  OF  GYRENE 


idolatry.  At  length  there  came  upon  Samson  such  a  desire  for 
heathen  loves  as  he  had  never  experienced  before.  Quoth  he,  “Oh  for 
once  again  a  sight  of  such  a  woman  as  Gillul  or  Emah!  Oh  that  I 
might  indeed  be  wedded  unto  such  perpetually !  ’  ’ 

Said  Kakon  Hypomnema,  “Thou  art  the  bird  for  a  good  net.  I 
will  show  thee  my  sister,  Abaddone,  and,  so  be  that  ye  like  each 
other,  ye  may,  for  my  part,  become  espoused.’ ’ 

Samson,  forgetting  that  he  was  on  his  way  to  the  High  Priest, 
challenged  him :  ‘  ‘  Show  me  thy  sister.  ’  ’ 

Hypomnema,  thereupon,  took  him  a  great  distance  out  of  his  way, 
along  a  crooked  lane  which  wandered  among  steep  cliffs  and  pitfalls. 

And  Samson  went  to  the  house  of  Kakon  Hypomnema,  and  beheld 
Abaddone.  And  he  tarried  with  them  twain. 

And,  on  a  later  day,  he  learned  that  the  man  was  by  no  means 
a  Greek — for  all  his  high-sounding  names — but  a  Hebrew,  and  that 
his  rightful  appellation  was  “Shikkuts,”  or  “Filth,”  even  as  that 
of  his  sister  was  “Abaddone.”  Now  both  these  people  were  secretly 
idolaters,  worshippers  of  Baal. 

And  Samson-Solomon  labored  with  Shikkuts  in  his  fields  for  small 
wages.  This  he  did  for  that  he  coveted  the  slattern  sister  of  that  man. 

And  Abaddone  needed  not  to  lay  court  unto  Samson,  as  Emah 
and  Gillul  had  had  to  do.  For  Samson  studied  the  woman  ardently, 
and  solicited  her,  and  won  her,  and  took  her  for  his  wife. 


BOOK  III.  DIVINE  ASSISTANCE 


CHAPTER  XIX 
The  City  op  the  Great  King 

Yea,  Samson  of  Cyrene  married  Abaddone,  sister  of  Skikkuts  and 
worshipper  of  Baal. 

For  behold,  the  woman  was  comely,  albeit  a  slattern.  And  she 
would  go  forth  unto  Samson  in  the  fields,  the  when  he  had  newly 
finished  communing  with  Jehovah,  and  all  his  soul  was  filled  with 
longing  both  to  hear  the  voice  of  God  and  to  see  God.  And,  at  such 
times,  she  would  talk  to  Samson  concerning  Baal,  and  mingle  the 
delights  of  religion  with  the  delicacies  of  lust. 

And  Samson  dwelt  in  the  house  of  Abaddone,  both  of  her  and 
of  her  filthy  brother,  Shikkuts.  And  he  lived  but  little  according 
to  the  ways  of  his  prophets. 

There  was  indeed  a  certain  good  man,  known  as  Mo  rah  (or 
4 ‘Grief”),  whose  face  was  like  unto  the  face  of  Jeremiah  and  of 
them  that  were  with  him  and  before  him.  He  sought,  at  divers 
times,  to  speak  unto  Samson-Solomon  concerning  his  wickedness.  On 
a  day,  he  did  just  manage  to  come  anigh  Samson. 

Said  he  then  unto  the  young  man,  i ‘Bless  me,  0  my  Son,  for  I 
come  in  the  name  of  Adonai.” 

But  Samson,  instead  of  blessing,  cursed  him. 

Then  asked  Morah,  ‘  ‘  Why  hast  thou  not,  0  priest,  Amahnah  with 
thee?” 

Samson  answered  and  said  unto  him, i  1 1  have  my  wife,  who  suiteth 
me  well  enough.  As  for  this  Amahnah,  I  know  not  who  she  is.” 

But  Morah  came  yet  nigher  up  unto  him.  And  he  declareth, 
*  ‘  Thou  knowest  very  well  that  Abaddone  hath  many  another  husband 
living.  Thou  knowest  also  very  well  who  Amahnah  is,  the  Purpose 
of  God.  And  she  bringeth  thee  earthly  blessings  as  well  as  a  heavenly 
reward — so  be  that  thou  wilt  hearken  unto  me.  See!  I  have  here 
from  that  woman  a  little  letter  which  she  hath  written  to  me,  not 
to  thee.  And  yet,  still,  she  encloseth  moneys,  which,  she  saith,  are 
all  for  the  fruits  of  thy  pastures.  And  she  saith  also  that,  by  the 
friends  of  Jeezer,  she  hath  learned  that  that  holy  man  is  dead.” 

121 


122 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


Samson  saith  unto  him,  “Jeezer?  that  former  prophet?  Is  he 
dead?” 

Morah  moaned  in  a  great  heaviness:  “Hast  thou  not,  Sweetly 
Chosen,  one  little  tear  to  shed  over  such  a  prophet  as  Jeezer?” 

Samson  flew  into  a  rage,  saying:  “Get  out  of  my  way.  If  I 
choose  to  hear  again  from  Amahnah,  I  will  tell  thee.  And  if  I  come 
into  need  for  her  temporal  blessings,  then  also  will  I  tell  thee.  Mean¬ 
while,  thou  art  a  brazen  and  a  solemn  fool.  I  go  into  peace.” 

Morah  lifted  up  his  voice  after  the  young  man,  and  wept.  Saith 
he,  “I  am  well  called  Morah,  for  behold  I  am  merely  ‘ Grief. ’  But 
thou,  0  Samson-Solomon,  art  thou  not  forever  lost?  A  great  punish¬ 
ment  shall  come  upon  thee.  Thou  shalt  be  confined  for  an  age.  A 
helper  from  above  will  be  necessary  unto  thee  and  unto  us  all.  Mes¬ 
siah,  Messiah!  come  soon.” 

And  on  many  other  days  did  Morah  seek  to  come  up  with  Samson- 
Solomon,  meaning  to  say  to  him  many  sweet  things  and  precious 
concerning  his  priesthood.  But  that  perverse  and  obdurate  young 
man  would  nowise  hearken,  but  went  away  from  him  quickly. 

And,  in  later  years,  when  Jehovah  had  sent  upon  his  servant, 
Samson,  the  very  great  punishment  which  the  prophet  had  predicted, 
then  made  Morah  a  grievous,  if  divinely  beautiful,  Lamentation.  And 
the  words  which  he  uttered,  are  they  not  extant  until  this  day  ? 

But  Ophidion  was  busy,  in  these  earlier  times,  in  far  distant  parts. 
For  behold,  the  Jew  had  shapen,  as  it  were,  a  habit  of  idolatry,  and 
Ophidion,  knowing  this,  left  the  failure  to  his  own  devices. 

Now,  on  a  certain  day,  Abaddone,  having  learned  from  Samson- 
Solomon  concerning  his  deep  abhorrence  of  the  Mocker,  Trivialis, 
said  unto  her  man:  “Accursed  be  the  day  I  became  thy  wife — thou 
who  art  a  sluggard  in  revenge.” 

Said  Samson,  “I  am  in  doubt  as  to  what  I  should  do.”  And 
he  told  her  the  dream  he  had  had  within  another  dream,  wherein  he 
had  thought  that  the  Mocker  had  stolen  the  sacred  locket  from  his 
breast,  and  that,  having  slain  the  man,  he  found  in  his  fingers  not 
indeed  a  locket,  but  a  venomous  serpent,  while  the  treasure  still  was 
safe  upon  his  own  breast. 

But  Abaddone  said,  “A  pestilence  seize  upon  thee  for  a  fool.  Wilt 
thou  harbor  brotherly  thoughts  of  this  thine  enemy,  who  is  also  enemy 
unto  thy  God  and  unto  my  god?” 

Samson  told  her  of  the  little  kindly  acts  which  Trivialis  had  done 
for  him. 

She  laughed  more  scornfully.  “What  sort  of  priest  art  thou  these 
days?  Pah!  I  did  esteem  thee  when  thou  struckest  my  brother  in 


DIVINE  ASSISTANCE 


123 


the  fields,  and  all  but  brake  him  to  pieces.  Lovest  thou  Jerusalem 
and  the  Temple  that  is  on  Moriah,  and  yet  wilt  not  so  much  as  smite 
a  scorner  thereof?  And  the  scorner  scorned  thee  also,  and  yet  thou 
hast  not  stricken  him.” 

Then  Samson  asked  her  with  all  humility  what  it  was  he  should  do. 

“Now,”  said  she,  “thou  beginnest  to  speak  like  a  true  man.  Hast 
thou  not  heard,  in  any  way  at  all,  where  that  Mocker  is  that  did 
scorn  thee  and  God,  that  thou  mayest  find  him  and  punish  him  ?  ’  ’ 

“Nay.” 

“Then,”  said  she,  “I  have  a  plan.  My  brother  and  I  do  know 
the  captain  of  a  ship,  and  he  goeth  about  the  world.  A  Roman 
he  is  and  hard.  His  name,  Ardelio,  or  ‘  Busy-body.  ’  Say  unto  him 
the  knowledge  thou  wouldst  have,  and  he  will  find  it,  yea  though  he 
have  to  bring  it  from  the  uttermost  corners  of  the  earth.” 

As  Abaddone  said,  so  did  Samson. 

And  Ardelio  promised  to  bring  news  about  Trivialis,  so  that 
Samson  of  Cyrene  might  have  upon  his  enemy  a  sufficient  revenge. 

But,  on  a  day,  came  Abaddone  once  again  to  Samson,  saying: 
“The  gods  confound  thee  for  an  impious  wretch.  What  hast  thou 
done  of  late  in  the  way  of  religion?”  Samson  said,  “I  have  observed 
the  Sabbath — so  much  I  know.” 

“That,”  said  she,  “is  all  thou  hast  done.  But  listen  and  give 
good  heed  to  what  I  shall  say.  My  brother,  which  is  Shikkuts,  and 
also  I,  have,  together  wdth  some  of  the  wiser  of  our  neighbors, 
determined  to  see  again  the  mysteries  of  Baal,  which  is  also  Moloch. 

4  ‘  These  are  to  be  in  secret,  and  none  shall  behold,  save  them  which 
are  privileged  as  thereunto.  There  standeth,  even  now,  in  the  wilder¬ 
ness,  a  brazen  image  of  the  Lord,  which  is  Moloch.  Within,  it  is 
hollow,  for  the  place  of  a  great  burning  is  to  be  there.  His  face  is  that 
of  a  calf,  and  his  hands  stretch  forth  like  those  of  a  mighty  man 
who  openeth  them  to  receive  something  from  a  friend. 

“And  we,  the  worshippers,  will  place  in  his  heated  arms  the 
choicest  of  all  offerings — the  first  born  of  the  house  of  all  them 
which  have  children.  So  shall  the  child  have  union  with  the  god,  and 
we  that  stand  about  shall  have  much  merit  with  him  also.” 

Then  was  Samson  aghast  at  her  who  had  lain  in  his  bosom.  Said 
he,  “Moloch  is  naught,  saving  as  Satan  may  be  behind  him.  Ye  do 
therefore  worship  Satan.  Let  us  abhor  all  these  things,  and  go  up 
unto  Jerusalem,  and  worship  the  Lord  God  only,  which  is  El-Shaddai, 
and  which  is  from  everlasting  unto  everlasting.  Baal  and  Satan, 
they  shall  find  an  end.” 

She  cried,  “Fool!  Is  not  any  religion  just  as  good  as  another? 


124 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


Let  us  worship  not  in  accordance  with  one  alone,  but  many.  And 
behold  there  shall  come,  at  the  close  of  the  worship  of  Moloch,  those 
mysteries  which  gladden  the  hearts  of  men  and  women  which  have 
passion.  Moreover,  I  would  have  a  sign.  Thy  God  which  is  in  the 
Temple  at  Jerusalem,  He  giveth  no  longer  any  sign.  Where  is  the 
sheckinah?  And  none  that  is  born  of  flesh  can  in  anywise  know 
Him.” 

*  ‘  Unless  Messiah  come. ’  9 

She  laughed.  ‘  ‘Messiah  will  not  come.  Of  that  be  sure.  Have 
ye  not  awaited  Him,  ye  Jews,  till  all  the  Land  is  bloody  with  Roman 
rule,  yea  and  much  longer  also  ?  And  ye  have  not  even  the  sheckinah 
in  the  space  between  the  cherubim  that  have  sat  these  thousand  years 
upon  the  ark,  and  still  sit,  and  yet  there  is  no  shining  in  the  space 
which  is  there  between  them. 

‘‘But  the  hot  face  of  Moloch  laugheth  when  the  children  die.  And 
he  laugheth  yet  again  when  he  heareth  the  rolling  of  the  drums 
which  the  people  beat  that  his  goodly  ears  may  not  perceive  the 
shrieks  of  children  and  of  parents.” 

Then,  perceiving  that  she  had  made  a  mistake,  she  went  another 
way  about.  So  he  lay  with  his  head  in  her  lap,  as  she  kissed  him 
mightily.  And,  for  the  servant  of  God,  he  became  vain  in  his 
imagination,  and  his  foolish  heart  was  darkened.  He  longed  once 
more  for  a  sign  from  heaven,  in  especial  for  a  god  that  he  could 
both  see  and  touch. 

He  therefore  gave  consent,  calling  Abaddone  “Sweetest  Tsyria.” 
She,  on  her  part,  said :  “In  the  morning  I  would  that  thou  wouldest 
go  up  to  Jerusalem,  and  let  the  High  Priest  see  thee.  For  lo !  it  is 
time  thou  didst  in  some  wise  give  heed  concerning  this  matter  of  thy 
priesthood,  having  been  in  the  Land  long.  ’  ’ 

Samson,  in  consequence,  said  unto  her:  “It  is  truly  well.  I 
shall  be  a  priest  in  the  house  of  the  Lord  at  Jerusalem,  but,  in 
secret,  I  will  worship  Baal  with  thee. 9  y 

On  the  morrow,  therefore,  at  earliest  cockcrow,  he  (having  been 
advised  by  Abaddone  to  watch  for  robbers)  set  out  toward  Jerusalem. 

Nor  was  he,  on  this  day,  in  his  heart  afraid  to  go  up  unto  the 
City  of  the  Great  King,  there  to  offer  himself  (who  was  a  worshipper 
of  Baal)  unto  the  High  Priest  of  the  Almighty.  For  behold!  his 
heart  was  greatly  an-hardened. 

And  as  he  went  along  the  way,  he  rejoiced  in  all  the  differences 
(for  such  was  his  folly)  which  he  saw  between  this  Land  of  God’s 
and  all  the  other  lands  of  the  world  which  he  had  seen,  saying:  “It 
is  my  Land,  0  Lord.  It  is  thy  Land,  0  Lord.  It  is  the  Land  of  thy 


DIVINE  ASSISTANCE 


125 


people,  0  Lord  God  Almighty.  ’  ’  And  he  felt  neither  jot  nor  tittle  of 
unworthiness. 

So,  passing  up  the  road  betwixt  the  white,  flat-topped  villages, 
and  the  fences  built  of  the  unhewn  stone  of  the  fields,  he  fared  to 
the  west  of  Bethlehem,  saying:  “On  a  day,  I  will  surely  return 
unto  thee,  0  village  of  David,  and  village  of  the  Christ  that  is  to  be. 
And  I  will  herd  my  sheep  and  my  cattle  round  about  thee,  watching 
from  Migdal  Eder,  and,  as  my  course  is  called  for  its  turn  at  service  in 
the  Temple,  I  will  betake  me  unto  the  City,  and  there  will  serve  the 
Lord,  my  Father,  my  comfort  and  my  strength.  And  I  will  be  a 
Sadducee,  as  well  as  priest.  ’  ’ 

And  he  rejoiced  to  hear,  as  he  passed  through  villages,  the  peculiar 
greetings  of  his  own  and  God’s  people.  “The  blessings  of  the  true 
God  upon  thee.”  “And  to  thee  and  thine  the  peace  of  the  Lord.” 
“To  thee  also,  till  Messiah  come.”  He  passed  people  who  wore 
phylacteries  openly,  as  if  they  were  proud  thereof.  People  who, 
entering  their  houses,  reached  up  first  and  touched  the  mezuzah,  and 
did  not  glance  round  to  see  if  hateful  eyes  looked. 

Sometimes  supercilious  Pharisees  rode  past  on  ass  or  camel,  for 
the  most  part  solitary,  stopping  from  time  to  time  in  the  middle  of 
the  road  to  make  long  prayers  with  brazen  voices.  At  the  corners 
of  their  outer  robes  they  had  blue  fringes,  and  these  were  broad 
and  long,  on  their  heads  and  arms  phylacteries,  and  these  were  big 
and  bright  and  stood  forth  plainly  in  the  sight  of  all  men. 

Samson  said  to  one  of  these  Pharisees,  “Peace  be  unto  thee,  O 
Holy  Father.”  Whereupon  the  Rabbi  gazed  at  him  with  wide, 
disdainful  eyes,  saying:  “I  thank  thee,  Lord,  I  am  not  as  this 
man  is.” 

There  came  two  courtly  Sadducees  on  milk-white  mules,  apparelled 
in  purple  and  gold,  dainty  and  delicate  and  very  self-possessed, 
talking  excellent  Greek.  Samson  said  to  them,  “Peace  be  unto 
thee — till  Messiah  come.”  They  looked  up  in  amazement  at  the 
giant  striding  by,  and  said  not  anything  to  him. 

Thought  Simon,  “  ’Tis  well.  For  how  can  they  know  I  too  am  a 
Sadducee?  Do  they  wot  of  my  priesthood  and  locket?  Tomorrow — ” 
He  swallowed  his  gall. 

He  was  not  much  northward  of  the  road  that  runneth  toward 
Bethlehem,  when  a  rude  fellow  came  out  from  bushes  and  walked 
beside  him. 

“Thou  art  a  Babylonian?”  “Aye.” 

At  Migdal  Eder  the  man  departed  on  his  own  way — toward  the 


126 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


west.  i ‘Peace  be  unto  thee!”  “And  to  thee  also — till  we  meet 
again.”  It  was  only  the  salutation  of  the  country. 

Now,  on  gaining  the  little  height  to  the  north  of  “  Rachael ’s 
Tomb,”  Samson  beheld  to  the  east  (not  knowing  what  lay  in  wait 
for  him)  only  the  wilderness  which  led  off  to  the  Sea  of  Salt  and 
the  blue-black  mountains  beyond  it.  Glancing  backwards,  he  saw 
the  white,  uplifted  houses  of  rock-built  Bethlehem.  Turning  forward 
yet  again,  and  going  but  a  little  on — 

J  erusalem ! 

The  City  of  the  Great  King ! 

Yea,  the  city  of  Abraham,  and  of  Isaac,  and  of  Saul  and  of 
David,  and  of  the  Lord  God  of  Hosts. 

The  City  of  Messias! 

His  heart  came  into  his  mouth,  for  he  had  no  utterance. 

But  after  a  time  he  thought,  “So  long  have  I  staid  away  from 
thee,  O  Jerusalem,  I  who  should  have  been,  these  long  sweet  years, 
a  priest  within  thy  courts !  ’  ’ 

He  wept. 

After  a  time,  growing  bolder,  he  said  with  a  cry,  as  he  gazed  on 
the  snowy  masses  and  glittering  pinnacles  of  God’s  very  mountain: 
“0  Jerusalem,  Jerusalem!  If  I  forget  thee,  let  my  right  hand  forget 
her  cunning:  Let  my  tongue  cleave  to  the  roof  of  my  mouth,  if  I 
remember  thee  not — if  I  prefer  not  Jerusalem  above  my  chief  joy.” 

And  he  said  also,  “Yonder!  In  the  Hall  of  Polished  Stones!  It 
is  there  I  shall  be  accepted  as  a  priest  of  the  Almighty.”  He  caught 
suddenly  at  the  locket  on  his  breast,  believing  that  the  precious  thing 
had  been  lost.  Before  he  found  it,  his  knees  were  as  water. 

Then  was  his  soul  again  exultant.  He  exclaimed  and  said:  “I 
shall  surely  on  a  day  see  God.  I  shall  hear  His  voice,  and  hearken 
to  the  sound  of  it  also.  Oh  my  God,  my  God!” 

But  after  a  time,  he  thought  of  what  he  would  tell  Abaddone  about 
all  these  things. 

Then,  after  a  little  more,  he  said:  “Let  me  first  become  a  priest 
in  God’s  temple.  Later,  I  will  surely  return  unto  thee,  Abaddone, 
and  also  to  Moloch,  and,  on  a  time  yet  later,  unto  Gillul  and  Dusares, 
and,  on  a  time  that  is  later  still,  to  Emah  and  the  crocodile,  yea  and 
also  to  Temunah.” 

Then  he  ceased  to  remember,  to  know,  to  exist. 

When  he  awoke,  he  was  tied,  face  upward,  on  the  back  of  a 
moving  camel.  A  cloth  of  darkness  lay  over  his  eyes,  a  gag  in  his 
mouth. 


DIVINE  ASSISTANCE 


127 


He  cursed  within  his  soul.  And  he  began  to  blame  Trivialis  for  his 
wretched  condition.  “Thou  wast  right,  Abaddone.” 

God  gave  the  man  over  to  a  reprobate  mind. 

Now  the  lumbering  caravan,  of  which  the  beast  whereon  he  lay 
(as  Samson  knew  from  the  myriad  steps  before  and  none  behind) 
did  form  the  rearward  part,  came  suddenly  to  a  stop.  There  was 
bargaining  for  awhile  about  the  toll  at  the  city  gate.  Then  the 
caravan  started  again,  entering  the  City  of  the  Great  King.  But 
Samson-Solomon,  which  was  also  Simon,  of  Cyrene,  though  he  had 
his  own  two  eyes,  yet  beheld  no  glory  of  the  place. 

But  he  smelt  the  smell  of  the  many  burnt  offerings  which  were 
being  offered  on  The  Hill.  And  suddenly  there  came  the  bright 
stentorian  tones  of  trumpets,  the  trumpets  of  the  Temple,  blown  by 
God’s  priests. 

Ah  the  sweet,  Hebraic  brass ! 

“An  alarm  in  the  midst,  with  a  plain  note  both  before  and  after 
it.”  So  he  had  many  times  read,  and  so  he  now  did  find  the  calling 
of  the  trumpets.  Then — “Thekiah,  Theruah,  Thekiah!”  Seven 
times  blown — “Thekiah,  Theruah,  Thekiah!” 

He  could  even  (in  the  chambers  of  his  heart)  behold  the  solemn 
priests,  those  holy  happy  men,  with  God’s  own  trumpets  at  their 
sacred  lips — blowing,  blowing,  blowing — calling,  calling,  calling  God ’s 
people. 

He  was  not  among  those  priests,  not  even  among  God’s  people. 

“Why  hast  thou  blinded  me,  Jehovah?  Even  as  the  ancient 
Samson  at,  the  mill  was  blinded  by  the  trivial  of  earth,  so  am  I  blinded 
now.  Wilt  thou  not  take  the  bandage  from  mine  eyes?  Didst  thou 
choose  me  for  a  monument  unto  thee,  and  shall  the  Lord  God  of 
Hosts  have  chosen  his  priests  in  vain?  Give  me  again  light!” 

The  sound  of  the  trumpets  ceased,  and  the  Temple  organ  pealed 
forth.  He  heard  in  his  soul  the  sound  of  sweetly  solemn  singing  up, 
far  up,  on  Mount  Moriah. 

Angels ! 

Oh  God ! 

The  singing  ceased,  leaving  a  void,  and  he  heard  but  the  shifting 
scurry  of  the  camels’  feet.  And  the  voices  of  all  the  people  were 
silent,  because,  as  it  seemed,  the  singing  up  on  Mount  Moriah  had 
left,  within  their  souls  also,  an  unutterable  emptiness. 

Then  brake  suddenly  upon  the  Jew’s  ear  a  harsh,  bold,  impenitent 
cry — the  cry  of  unspiritual  Jerusalem.  “Let  me  know  my  duty, 
and  I  will  do  it !  Let  me  know  my  duty,  and  I  will  do  it !  ” 

A  Pharisee ! 


128 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


Came  a  clap  of  hands,  then  the  harsh  voice  once  again:  “I,  even 
I,  that  is  to  say  Parush,  he  that  is  wiser  and  better  than  all  the 
Sopherim  of  the  city,  he  that  keepeth  himself  apart,  whose  very 
name  denoteth  separation.  I,  even  I,  the  great  Parush,  the  tender¬ 
hearted,  will  now  give  alms.  Come  and  see.  Come,  all  ye  needy !  To 
you,  and  to  you,  and  to  you.  Forget  not,  anyone,  him  which  doeth 
these  good  things — Parush,  the  man  that  is  separate  and  apart  and 
higher  than  all  the  other  people,  even  scholars — and  yet  he  doeth 
alms.  ’  ’ 


CHAPTER  XX 
The  Babylonia 

In  a  well-hid  bay  of  the  island  of  Cypress,  lay  at  anchor,  as  it 
were  a  drowsing  boat.  Barren  mountains  stood  about  the  bay,  like 
hostile  sentinels.  Never  a  path  came  to  the  water. 

Out  of  the  ranked  holes  in  the  galley,  on  each  of  the  sides  of  the 
ship,  ran  forth  three  long  banks  of  oars.  But  silence  brooded  as 
it  were  a  sitting  eagle  round  about  the  ship,  and  about  the  oar-holes 
thereof,  and  the  places  where  the  oars  went  into  the  water.  Even 
the  prow-figure  (breast  and  shoulders  of  a  man  with  head  of  horned 
bull)  seemed  steeped  in  everlasting,  if  martial,  dreams. 

On  the  top  deck  of  the  ship  came  never  a  fall  of  foot,  never  a 
syllable  of  speech. 

Yet  of  a  sudden  rushed  swiftly  up  and  forth  out  of  the  forward 
hatch  a  rugged,  wide-eyed  fellow  in  bright  coat  of  half  mail,  shouting : 
“ Where  art  thou,  0  Master  of  Marines?  Thinkest  thou  that  thou 
art  worthy  leader  of  the  forces  of  Captain  Mastix?” 

Then  partly  rose  one  that  had  been  asleep  within  the  shadow 
of  the  hindmost  sail,  and,  leaning  on  his  elbow,  “By  the  very  soul  of 
Morpheus,’ '  cried  he,  “dost  thou  mean  to  shatter  the  planks  of  the 
Babylonia  ?  Or  wilt  thou,  rather,  call  down  upon  us  the  people  living 
in  the  depths  of  yonder  hills?  If  thou  art  helmsman,  such  remain. 
Chide  not  me  who  am  master  of  the  fighters  on  this  ship.” 

And  he  sank  back  on  the  deck,  being  asleep  again. 

The  gubernator,  or  helmsman,  therefore  ran  up  to  him,  and 
kicked  him,  crying:  “Wilt  thou  be  a-drunken?  Already  hast  slept  a 
day  and  yet  another.  Awaken  and  arise,  for  Mastix  will  soon  return. 
Even  as  he  did  say  unto  us,  so  cometh  he  back.  And  behold!  the 
men  that  are  under  thee,  are  they  in  better  state  than  thou?” 

But  the  master  of  the  soldiers  said  unto  him,  “Be  accursed. 


DIVINE  ASSISTANCE 


129 


Mastix  will  not  return.  He  hath  been  killed,  belike.  And,  if  he 
come  not  back  by  morning,  I  will  take  over  the  ship,  and  be  myself  the 
captain.  Am  not  I  as  good  a  thief  as  he?  There  now.  Let  me 
slumber.  ’ ’  Once  again  he  snored. 

Then  came  to  the  helmsman  another  that  was  friend  unto  the 
master  of  marines,  and  said:  “Let  him  that  sleepeth,  sleep.  Mastix 
will  never  return,  and  then  the  master  of  the  marines,  he  shall  be  cap¬ 
tain  for  us.  For  behold,  our  present  captain  hath  done  a  foolhardy 
thing  in  that  he  hath  gone  unto  Palestine  to  waylay  men,  and  bring 
them  down  to  Caesarea,  thence  by  the  dangerous  ways  of  the  sea 
until  here.  Better  to  have  staid  short-handed  than  to  have  walked 
into  the  jaws  of  Rome. — Come,  therefore,  Gubernator,  and  join 
our  mutiny.  We  shall  up  with  anchor,  then,  and  sail  to  sweetest 
plunders  and  success.’ ’ 

But  Gubernator  looked  at  the  man  fiercely.  * 1  Traitor !  ’  ’  cried  he. 

Then  set  upon  the  gubernator,  from  behind,  two  others  of  the 
friends  of  the  master  of  the  marines,  smiting  him  that  he  fell. 

And  yet  was  up  again. 

Then  down  again. 

Then  up  again. 

And  all  the  soldiers  both  above  deck  and  below  began  to  become  of 
either  party,  that  of  the  master  of  the  marines  or  else  that  of  Mastix 
and  the  gubernator.  And  while  the  fighting  was  thickest,  some  one 
cried  out:  “Mastix!  Mastix!” 

And  behold,  the  captain  of  the  vessel  was  back  among  them.  His 
arm  was  mighty.  And  there  were  other  strong  men  with  him.  Soon, 
because  of  these,  the  fray  was  at  an  end. 

Then  brought  Mastix,  who  was  a  great,  black-bearded  fellow,  into 
the  ship  all  the  kidnapped  men,  which  he  had  taken  in  Palestine, 
not  for  soldiers  but  for  slaves,  that  they  might  labor  at  his  oars  in 
the  belly  of  the  ship.  And  he  set  them  forward  in  the  ship. 

Then  called  he  before  him  at  the  back  of  the  ship  all  them  which 
still  were  on  life  that  had  conspired  against  him. 

And  he  adjudged  them.  And  he  had  their  ears  cut  off,  and  piled 
up  in  a  heap  upon  the  deck.  And  of  some  he  put  the  eyes  out  also, 
with  heated  irons.  And  the  rest  he  flayed  alive,  laughing  without 
restraint  at  their  screams. 

Those  that  died  he  cast  into  the  sea.  But  the  others  he  set  naked 
on  the  shore  of  the  wild  mountains. 

Then  gave  he  unto  the  master  of  the  galley-slaves  explicit  instruc¬ 
tions  as  about  the  new  men  the  which  he  had  just  brought. 

9 


130 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


And  Simon  was  the  last  to  be  taken  down  into  the  bowels  of  the 
ship. 

Him  they  set  down  into  the  deepmost  belly  of  the  vessel,  as  the 
last  slave  on  the  left  (which  was  the  worser)  side  thereof,  and  they 
chained  him  to  his  bench.  “That  is  good  enough  for  him,”  said 
that  one  which  fastened  his  chains,  “a  dog  of  a  Jew.”  And  they 
scourged  him,  and  spat  upon  him,  and  kicked  him  mightily. 

Then  were  all  those  new-brought  rowers  instructed  how  to  row, 
and,  that  done,  the  anchor  was  lifted,  and  the  hortator — he  which 
sate  at  the  front  of  the;  chamber,  with  a  hammer  over  a  sounding- 
board — began  to  strike  the  strokes  which  the  oarsmen  were  to  follow, 
and  also  to  cry  them  out  imperiously — “Un-us,  du-o!  TJn-us,  du-o!” 

And  all  the  slaves  did  pull  in  unison,  and  the  vessel  began  to 
tremble,  to  move. 

Then  called  Mastix,  far  up  above,  to  set  the  sails,  which  was  done, 
and  the  speed  of  the  vessel  continually  increased. 

Glanced  Samson-Solomon  about  the  slave-chamber.  He  saw  that, 
on  each  side  of  the  vessel,  ran  three  long  files  of  naked  slaves,  each 
ironed  and  carefully  chained  to  his  own  bench.  Under  each  bench 
he  beheld  a  receptacle  for  filth,  so  that  no  slave  at  all  did  ever  leave 
his  bench,  but  slept,  at  the  times  that  were  ordered,  by  lying  sidewise 
on  his  bench. 

After  a  time,  Samson  ceased  to  watch  the  ever-bending  and 
unbending  hundreds  of  white  backs  of  the  rowers,  and  began  to  gaze 
dreamily  through  his  port-hole,  as  a  bird  through  the  only  opening 
in  a  solid  cage.  And  ever  as  his  head  went  forward  and  down,  he 
looked  out  over  the  water  to  the  land.  Then  he  beheld  that  many 
high  and  solemn  mountains  ran  down  to  the  narrow  channel.  And  up 
among  those  hills  he  saw  villages,  nestling  and  full  of  silent  peace. 
In  places  the  mountains  overhung  and  were  bare  and  sterile,  in  others 
they  were  rolling  and  covered  with  heavy  timber  and  all  sweet 
greenness. 

Throughout  the  afternoon  the  galley  throbbed  and  creaked  and 
hummed  and  moaned  in  and  out  of  an  endless  succession  of  narrow 
straits  and  confining  sounds.  Up  above,  the  wind,  a  captive  in  the 
tense  sails,  labored  continually. 

After  a  while  Samson-Solomon,  deadened  and  weary  and  faint  of 
heart  and  hopeless,  ceased  to  watch  the  comings  and  the  goings  of 
the  land,  and  began  to  notice  the  melancholy  sing-song  of  the  oars, 
as  if  there  were  human  voices  therein:  “You-will  nev-er  leave-this 
place-alive!  you-will  nev-er  leave-this  place-alive!  You-will  nev-er 
leave-this  place-alive !  ’  *  And  so  on  and  on,  and  on  and  on  and  on. 


DIVINE  ASSISTANCE 


131 


In  the  belly  of  such  a  ship  !  God ’s  priest ! 

Was  this  a  hymn  of  glory  to  the  Creator,  this  which  now  he  did 
hear  ? 

What  could  the  nations  learn  of  Samson-Solomon,  that  great 
priest  to  the  Almighty? 

There  came  to  the  slaves  a  negro,  who  distributed  water  and 
ill-smelling  food.  The  oars  ceased,  the  sails  were  taken  in,  the  ship 
became  motionless.  The  slaves  did  eat. 

Then  looked  Samson-Solomon  through  his  oar-hole,  observing  a 
tiny,  templed  village  lying  at  rest  upon  a  rounded  hill,  as  though  it 
were  a  soft  couch.  The  stones  in  the  streets  glittered  like  pearls  with 
the  scales  of  fishes.  It  seemed  a  spot  where  all  was  happiness,  where 
misery  and  gloom  could  never  be.  A  flute  sounded,  out  among  the 
hills.  Suddenly  the  hortator ’s  hammer  struck.  Hundreds  of  backs 
straightened.  “Un-us,  du-o!  Un-us,  du-o l” 

Betwixt  the  hammerings  of  the  hortator,  he  caught  the  occasional 
low  repeatings  of  the  flute.  These  died  away.  “  You-will  nev-er  leave- 
this  place-alive!  You-will  nev-er  leave-this  place-alive!  You-have 
failed-as  priest-of-God !  You-have  failed-as  priest-of-God !  ’  ’ 

And  so  till  the  thick  night  came,  and  he,  together  with  certain 
others  were  ordered  to  stretch  out  along  their  benches  and  to  sleep. 

Samson  slept.  And  there  came  no  dreams  unto  him. 

And  he  awoke  when  a  messenger  from  the  hortator  struck  him 
and  bade  him  pull  again. 

He  joined  him  to  the  stroke,  grieving  that  never  a  sweetly  solemn 
dream  had  come  to  illumine  his  dull  sleep.  “I  am,”  said  he,  “for¬ 
gotten  of  God.” 

After  a  time  the  vessel  slowed,  and  men  from  a  boat  on  the  far 
side  of  the  galley  were  being  uplifted  into  the  ship.  Looking  through 
his  port-hole  Solomon  beheld  in  the  sea  the  inverted  heavens — the 
blue-black,  tremulous  vault  and  all  the  innumerable  throbbing  hosts  of 
God.  What  Lampadephorean  philosopher  was  it  which  had  said  that 
many  of  the  stars  were  worlds  like  this,  peopled  perchance  with 
men  ?  Ah  yes,  Anaxagoras !  He  could  almost  hear  again  the  lips  of 
Lampadephorus  reviewing  the  doctrines  of  Anaxagoras. 

Samson’s  eye  picked  out  in  the  water  one  sadly  glimmering  orb, 
which,  as  he  fondly  imagined,  might  be  indeed  a  world  like  unto 
Earth.  Hid  this  globe  of  ours  in  its  turn  appear  to  people  on  that 
orb  like  a  quivering  speck  of  unaccountable  fire?  Anaxagoras,  as 
the  Jew  remembered,  had  said  that,  given  the  same  conditions  of 
its  origin,  another  world  than  ours  would  also  in  time  bear  upon  it 
men  whose  history  should  not  differ  in  any  particular  from  that  of 


132 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


the  peoples  on  this  globe.  What,  then,  of  free  will  there?  Sin? 
Adonai?  Messias?  Was  there  really  sin  upon  that  speck  of  fire? 
Time  and  space  must  be  there,  of  course.  Were  Jews  there?  Were 
they  there  because  of  sin? 

The  scent  of  wild  thyme,  sweet  and  overpowering,  came  from  the 
near-by  woodland,  taunting  Samson  of  the  Cyrenaic  sheepfields  with 
his  loss  of  liberty.  There  were  also  soft  voices  on  the  shore.  Laughter. 

Still  he  was  looking  at  the  tiny  star,  that  trembling  bit  of  gilded 
dust  sailing  athwart  the  infinite  of  space  and  time.  Infinite?  Time 
and  space  and  stars  and  galleys,  yea  and  men’s  bodies  and  the  lives 
which  are  bound  up  thereunto — 

The  star  began  to  rise  a  little,  then  to  sink.  A  tremor  passed 
beneath  the  galley.  The  star,  agitated,  broke  into  innumerable  points, 
which,  after  moments  of  darting  hither  and  yon,  again  united,  again 
separated,  touched,  parted,  touched — became  once  more  a  single, 
steady,  beautiful,  brightly  gleaming  star,  at  rest  upon  God ’s  bosom. 

A  scourge  bit  into  the  Jew’s  shoulders.  He  had  leaned  too  far 
forward ! 

There  was  trampling  on  the  decks,  muffled  voices.  One  cried  out 
that  a  life  had  been  taken  without  need.  A  heavy  body  was  cast 
overboard,  shortly  after  that,  another.  Then  the  blows  of  the  hortator. 
‘‘You- will  nev-er  leave-this  place-alive,  you- will  nev-er  leave-this 
place-alive !  ” 

He  passed  a  night  of  little  ease,  fevered  by  the  unaccustomed  toil, 
the  foul  air,  the  steady  misery  above  him  and  before,  most  of  all 
by  his  alienation  from  Adonai.  At  early  morn  he  was  suffered  to 
sleep  again. 

And  when  he  again  awoke,  he  beheld  once  more  a  country  that  did 
mock  him,  a  mass  of  green  forest  and  dense  shade. 

After  a  while  there  appeared,  at  intervals,  in  some  clearing,  a 
hovel,  round  as  a  cask  for  wine  and  not  much  bigger,  set  underneath 
a  conical  jutting  roof  of  straw  or  wild-wood  thatch.  And  it  seemed 
that  happiness  must  be  even  in  such  places.  Some  hours  thence  they 
rode  by  a  land  where  more  men  lived  and  these  more  skillful,  and 
where  the  water  lay  in  innumerable  directions,  into  and  out  of  the 
coast.  Listlessly  he  watched  the  amazing  variations  of  this  world 
of  mingled  land  and  sea,  this  labyrinthine  freedom — the  chaos  of 
islets,  the  mysterious,  happy  passages  which  opened  and  closed  among 
them,  as  the  oar-banks  throbbed  and  throbbed,  and  the  wind,  a  bitter 
and  rebellious  captive,  still  complained  and  tore  and  snapped  at 
the  rigging. 

And  after  a  little  while  of  looking,  he  ceased  again  for  a  time 


DIVINE  ASSISTANCE  133 

to  behold  the  taunting  things  which  lay  before  his  physical  eye.  For 
at  heart  he  was  ever  a  dreamer,  and  now,  as  never  in  his  life  before, 
he  dreamed  a  waking  dream  (though  a  cast-off  priest  in  the  belly  of 
a  pirate  ship)  a  dream  of  the  Land,  of  his  own  people,  of  his  priest¬ 
hood  and  of  God. 

Outside  rose  the  whispers  of  God’s  waters,  like  multitudes  of  little 
earnest  prayers.  Even  the  waters  knew  Adonai,  and  they  worshipped 
Him. 

The  galley  went  out  from  the  straits  and  islands  and  into  the  Great 
Sea,  and,  pretending  to  be  a  harmless  merchant  ship,  put  into  a  port 
on  the  coast  of  Africa,  where  it  sold  many  things,  and  returning 
thence,  passed  by  Alexandria  down  into  the  Nile,  and  having  traded 
at  many  cities  for  many  days,  returned  thence,  and  passed  once 
more  through  the  Great  Sea  and  touched  at  Malta  and  again  at  Spain. 

So  Samson-Solomon  travelled  about  the  world,  unmet  and  un¬ 
saluted,  cursed  and  scourged,  used  and  made  little  account  of. 

Coming  back  eastward  well  beyond  Italy,  they  wound  round  about 
certain  islands,  and  came,  at  noisy  noon,  so  close  to  a  shore  that 
Samson-Solomon  could  smell  the  clover  of  its  excellent  fields  and 
hear  the  giant  bees  a-humming,  and  all  was  merely  as  a  bright  foil 
for  the  blackness  of  his  gloom. 

Afterwards  they  came  out  into  the  open  sea  again. 

Then,  in  the  distance,  Samson-Solomon ’s  ear  caught  a  strange 
throb — a  great  groaning— a  solemn,  soul-searching  vibration  of  infinite 
pathos  and  power.  Again  and  yet  again !  Rhythmic,  regular, 
recurrent  as  the  note  of  sorrow  in  the  song  of  every  life.  There  was 
no  misunderstanding  that  curious  complex  of  sounds,  that  sudden 
plunge  and  strain,  that  grind,  that  groan,  that  ultimate  crescendo  of 
wild,  protesting  shriek.  Splash,  strain,  groan,  and  shriek!  Splash, 
strain,  groan,  and  shriek!  How  often  had  he  not  contributed  the 
voice  of  his  own  indignant  oar  to  a  similar  wild  chorus  of  unavailing 
and  inarticulate  protest.  The  voice  of  his  oar — he  had  no  voice ! 

i  1  Pleasure  galley !  ’  ’  rang  out  a  voice  on  deck.  ‘ 1  Make  ready  all. ’  9 

A  mastigaphor  came  down  into  the  belly  of  the  ship,  and  began 
belaboring  the  slaves  that  these  might  pull  harder.  The  rudder- 
chains  creaked,  a  spot  of  light  from  a  port-hole  circled  (as  the  ship 
turned)  over  the  back  of  a  slave  sitting  in  front  of  the  Jew. 

Then,  “All  speed  forward!” 

Now  there  were  music  and  sweetest  singing  on  the  pleasure  craft, 
and  all  her  masts  and  sides  were  decked  with  flowers.  Victory! 
But  just  as  the  pirate  vessel  was  about  to  ram  the  pleasure  galley’s 
side,  behold  that  vessel  veered,  and  there  was  seen  at  its  own  great 


134 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


prow  a  ram  (though  mostly  covered  with  the  flowers).  And  on  her 
decks  appeared  not  drunken  roysterers,  as  Mastix  must  surely  have 
supposed,  but  Roman  soldiers,  piked  and  speared  and  a  many  of 
them. 

“We  have  been  deceived,”  cried  voices.  A  moment  later — “Why 
care  ? ’ ’ 

Again  the  rudder-chains  creaked.  Again  the  spot  of  light  shooting 
backward  over  the  slave  before  the  Jew.  Again,  “All  speed  ahead!” 
And  again  the  scourge  on  the  bleeding  backs. 

A  great  shock  of  the  whole  ship,  a  little  lifting  of  her  prow,  a 
sudden  recoil. 

Then,  far  above,  chains  clanked,  fire  flashed,  men  screamed  and 
shouted.  Tramplings  went  to  and  fro,  steel  clashed  on  steel,  heavy 
bodies  fell  on  decks  or  splashed  down  into  the  sea. 

But  Samson’s  deadened  soul  took  little  heed  as  about  all  these 
things.  He  cared  not  if  he  lived  or  died. 

An  order  came  to  row  again. 

So  he  rowed,  and  saw  as  in  a  dream  the  bending  backs  of  all  the 
other  rowers.  After  a  little,  as  the  vessel  drew  away  from  the  wreck 
of  the  war-ship  that  had  been  disguised  as  a  pleasure  vessel,  Samson 
beheld  her  reddened  timbers  casting  a  smoky  blaze  over  the  burnished 
sea. 

Then  took  the  pirates  their  booty  up  among  the  islands  of  Greece, 
there  to  sell  it,  and  so  out  into  a  wilderness  of  straits  again. 

And,  as  always,  Samson-Solomon  dreamed  about  the  Land  of  God. 

And  whenever  he  beheld  great  flocks  of  foam  go  floating  by,  that 
looked  like  ewes  and  lambs,  he  became  homesick  and  heavy  indeed 
of  heart  for  a  sight  of  Migdal  Eder  and  the  hills  and  valleys  around 
Bethlehem.  Prayed  he  a  day  and  a  night  for  rescue — prayed  with 
the  whole  of  his  heart  and  his  soul  and  his  mind  and  strength. 
“Return  me,  oh  return  me,  Lord  God  of  Israel,  unto  Jerusalem  and 
unto  the  Land  of  Judah.  If  I  forget  thee,  0  Jerusalem,  let  my  right 
hand  forget  her  cunning ;  if  I  do  not  remember  thee,  let  my  tongue 
cleave  to  the  roof  of  my  mouth;  if  I  prefer  not  Jerusalem  above  my 
chief  joy.  And  let  me,  I  pray  thee,  come  before  thy  High  Priest  in 
thy  Holy  house,  and  serve  within  thy  Temple.” 

Then  suddenly  he  saw  before  him,  as  plainly  as  with  the  eye  of 
sense,  a  vast  chamber  of  imagery.  Therein  he  beheld,  first,  the 
lascivious  rites  of  Greece  and  Rome.  He  saw,  as  it  seemed,  in  the 
temple  to  Aphrodite  of  Corinth,  hundreds  and  still  more  hundreds 
of  prostitutes,  fulfilling  their  “sacred”  functions.  A  voice  said,  “And 
the  woman  I  made  that  the  man  might  love  her!”  He  saw  also,  at 


DIVINE  ASSISTANCE 


135 


Rome,  the  Floralia,  which  were  held  in  honor  of  the  goddess  Flora. 
And  the  same  voice  said,  “Have  I  not  made  the  blossoms  that  the 
earth  might  be  a  place  of  beauty?  And  behold  how  man  hath 
marred  his  own  joy — with  drunkenness,  with  whoring,  with  all  manner 
of  obscene  abominations.  ’ 1  He  saw,  moreover,  the  Druids  of  Gaul, 
as  these  did  make  them  hollow  images  of  wicker,  the  which  they 
filled  with  living  men  and  burnt.  And  he  saw  both  women  and  men, 
Kedeshoth  and  Kedeshim,  who  were  consecrate  unto  idolatrous  prac¬ 
tices.  And  they  marched  before  him,  an  unending  company.  Some 
worshipped  Autolycus,  a  thief,  others  the  Greek  robber,  Hermes. 
He  saw  the  Ithyphalli  in  the  rites  of  Bacchus,  the  Athenians  in  their 
Ascophoria.  There  were  priests  of  Cybele,  in  women’s  clothes  and 
mutilated,  being  not  as  men.  And  there  was  bestiality,  not  only 
among  the  Chemarim,  but  among  the  multitudes  also  which  followed 
them.  And  many  men  (among  these  multitudes)  committed  all 
manner  of  uncleanness  with  other  men,  even  as  women  with  women. 
The  heart  of  the  Jew  was  downcast  utterly.  But  the  Lord  said  unto 
him,  “Once  again,  I  will  shew  thee  a  thing.”  And  he  shewed  him 
the  rites  of  Baal.  Thousands  of  images  of  brass,  all  heated  till  they 
shone  like  snow.  Into  the  arms  of  the  heated  images  great  multitudes 
cast  their  children,  each  the  first  born  of  his  own  house.  And 
Samson  beheld  among  the  multitudes  of  the  Chemarim,  a  person  he 
well  knew  and  one  that  led  them  all.  He  looked  and  looked  again. 
Behold  it  was  Abaddone — Abaddone,  she  that  had  been  the  wife  of 
his  bosom. 

Then  cried  (as  it  happened)  one  that  was  in  the  ship,  but  up 
above,  to  Mastix:  “Mastix,  I  tell  thee  that  one  religion  is  just  as 
good  as  any  other.”  And  Mastix  assented  with  a  mighty  oath  even 
to  Hades,  him  that  ruled  in  hell,  that  this  was  so. 

But,  in  the  belly  of  the  ship,  the  more  the  Jew  thought  about  his 
falls  from  the  pure  religion  of  Jehovah,  the  more  he  perceived  that 
he  needed  Shiloh.  “Am  I  alone  to  convert  the  world  to  thee,  Adonai? 
And  who  is  there  even  to  liberate  me  from  the  ship?  Can  I  alone 
destroy  these  chains?  Oh,  that  Shiloh  were  here!  Shiloh,  Shiloh! 
But  behold !  I  brought  not  with  me  out  of  Cyrenaica  Berith,  which  is 
Machashebethel.  What  a  paltry  priest  of  the  Lord  of  all  this  universe 
am  I,  a  slave,  alone  and  captive  in  the  belly  of  a  pirate  ship!” 

After  a  time  he  began  to  think,  “Suppose  that  Messiah  should 
never  come  within  my  days.  I  should  never  behold  Him,  then,  at 
any  time,  in  the  flesh.  I  should  never  touch  His  sacred  hand,  or 
hear  His  holy  voice.  I  should  not  perceive  my  God  until  I  die.” 


136 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


But  he  beheld  the  way  in  which  he  was  drifting.  Therefore  said  he 
to  himself,  “No,  not  that  way.  There  lieth  again  idolatry.’’ 

He  said  also,  “I  see  very  clearly  that  I  need  innumerable  little 
laws  which  shall  be  as  a  hedge  about  the  greater  laws  of  Moses. 
Parush,  I  hear,  hath  made  such  little  laws.  Should  I  ever  escape, 
had  I  not  better  become  a  dyer  and  dwell  beside  Parush,  and  learn, 
if  I  may,  his  multitudes  of  little  laws  ?  Or  were  it  better  if  I  kept  on 
as  I  started,  and  became,  in  the  Temple,  a  priest?” 

CHAPTER  XXI 

Amahnah,  which  is  Machashebethel 

In  the  fields  of  Cyrenaica,  Amahnah,  who  was  also  Berith  and 
Leah  and  Machashebethel,  still  looked  after  the  sheep  of  the  absent 
owner,  that  he  might  on  a  day  come  again  into  his  own. 

And  much  she  sorrowed  for  that  Samson  did  not  return,  neither 
sent  he  unto  her  any  word  of  commendation  or  of  greeting.  Crook 
in  hand,  she  led  the  sheep,  always  by  pleasant  paths  of  safety,  either 
up  unto  the  grassy  heights  or  down  again  to  quiet  pools  the  whereunto 
she  had  led  the  waters  of  the  running  brooks.  And  the  hirelings 
watched  she  also  that  harm  might  not  be  able  to  come  unto  any  of 
Samson’s  sheep. 

Now,  on  a  certain  day,  when  her  eyes  were  red  with  weeping  and 
her  heart  heavy  with  the  recollection  of  a  shepherd  that  came  not, 
she  tried  to  forget  her  olden  sorrow  in  still  more  gentle  and  comforting 
ministrations  to  the  lambs.  So  she  took  them  softly  up  into  her 
bosom  and  petted  them.  “Leah’s  precious  little  Rose  and  Wool  Baby. 
Come  hither,  Lily;  and  thou,  Joy  of  the  Wilderness,  wilt  thou  not  be 
fondled  too?”  Then,  seeing  that  the  smallest  lamb  of  the  whole 
flock  had  strayed  and  stumbled,  and  gone  down  into  a  ravine, 
she  arose  and  would  have  stepped  down  after  the  lambling,  but  that 
she  suddenly  heard,  though  at  some  great  distance,  the  voice  of  one 
who  ran.  “Leah!  Berith!  Machashebethel!  A  letter  hath  come 
unto  thee  from  Samson.  It  hath  come!” 

She  first  got  up  the  lamb,  and  having  placed  it  safely  with  the 
others,  ran  to  meet  the  messenger. 

He  gave  her  the  letter,  and,  when  he  had  turned  backward  on  his 
way,  she  led  her  sheep  up  into  a  little  rocky  fold,  and  there  enclosed 
them.  Seeing  that  all  were  safe,  she  sate  beneath  a  shade  and  looked 
upon  her  letter  timidly. 

Then  saw  she  again  in  her  mind  Samson-Solomon  of  other  days, 
beheld  him  as  plainly  as  ever  she  had  seen  him  in  the  flesh. 


DIVINE  ASSISTANCE 


137 


He  flew  with  rapture  to  her  side,  bent  his  head  before  her,  and 
she  gazed  upon  him  with  immediate  forgiveness  and  also  with  joy 
unutterable.  “My  bride,’ ’  said  he;  and  she,  “My  groom.” 

Then,  looking  upon  the  missive  again,  she  feared  to  open  it.  So 
she  prayed  most  earnestly,  and,  when  she  had  finished,  brake  the 
seals  upon  the  letter  and  unfolded  it  and  read.  And  the  letter  ran 
in  this  wise — 

Samson- Solomon  of  Cyrene  ( once  the  most  miserable  of  men,  but  now  again  free) 

unto  Amahnah,  the  Child  of  God,  Most  Happy  Greeting: 

Wilt  thou  ever  forgive  me  that  once  I  did  forget  thee?  Forgive,  if  thou  canst, 
and  then,  forgiving,  read.  My  trembling  fingers  scarce  can  hold  the  stylus  with 
which  I  endeavor  to  write  to  thee,  but,  if  thou  art  able  to  forgive,  then,  forgiving, 
read. 

And  she  kissed  the  letter  many  times,  and,  as  is  the  way  of  a 
woman,  cried  over  it.  And  so  she  read  again. 

Behold  I  have  been  in  many  dangers  since  last  I  did  write  to  thee,  but  all  of 
the  perils  which  I  have  seen,  I  have  brought  them  on  myself. 

And  he  told  her  of  his  ways  in  Egypt  and  of  those  in  Petra,  and 
again,  having  come  into  the  Land  of  the  Lord,  of  those  worser  ways 
of  wickedness  which  he  held  to  even  in  Adonai’s  country.  He  told 
her  of  his  journey  upward  unto  Jerusalem,  whenas  he  was  of  full 
intent,  having  reached  the  City,  to  show  himself  unto  the  High 
Priest,  to  whom  he  would  indeed  have  delivered  his  locket.  But 
behold,  as  he  gazed  at  the  very  city,  he  was  set  upon  by  thieves, 
who  took  him  into  hiding,  and  having  fetched  him  by  the  way  both 
of  Jerusalem  and  Caesarea,  unto  their  pirate  vessel,  did  make  him  a 
galley-slave.  He  spake  of  his  long,  long  sorrows  in  the  belly  of  the 
Babylonia — that  wicked  school  to  righteousness. 

But  after  a  time  (so  ran  the  letter)  when  I  had  prayed  exceeding  long  and 
was  very  repentant  and  downcast,  and  had  seen  in  my  mind  much  imagery  and 
had  forsworn  all  idols  forever,  then  brought  the  Lord  down  unto  me  in  the  belly 
of  the  ship — who  but  even  Mastix  himself?  And  he,  when  he  had  come  anigh 
unto  me,  said:  “Thou  art  a  Jew.  Canst  thou  get  me  music  out  of  a  harp?” 

I  said  unto  him,  “Yea,  on  a  time  I  might  have  got  thee  music  either  from 
that  or  from  yet  another  instrument,  but  now  is  all  my  soul  most  desolate.  To 
play  I  cannot.” 

Gave  the  man  orders  that  I  should  be  disenchained.  As  he  ordered,  so  it  was 
done.  And  I  was  taken  up  from  out  the  belly  of  the  ship,  and  led  to  the  deck. 

And  there  were  certain  idols  there.  Mastix  said  unto  me,  “Bow  thee  down 
unto  these  idols.” 

I  would  not. 

Said  he,  “Knowest  thou  not  that  my  very  name,  interpreted,  doth  mean  ‘a 
scourge’?” 

I  said  unto  him,  “A  scourge  thou  hast  truly  been  unto  me,  O  Mastix,  thou 
and  thy  great  ship  also,  yet  not  in  such  a  wise  as  to  drive  me  unto  idolatry,  but, 
the  rather,  away  therefrom.” 

And  again  I  would  not  worship. 

Then  he  tried  me  by  fire  and  in  many  other  ways,  but  I  stood  all  the  tests. 
And  he  said — 

“I  will  use  thee  as  a  steward,  for  I  see  that  I  can  depend  upon  thee.” 


138 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


So  he  made  me  the  steward  of  his  ship,  and  gave  me  bach  the  locket  which 
had  been  found  upon  my  neck.  But,  not  long  thereafter,  we  were  suddenly  set 
upon  by  an  enemy  ship,  itself  a  pirate,  called  the  “Persia,”  and  the  master  thereof 
“Apodoter” — which,  by  interpretation,  meaneth  “restorer.” 

And  Apodoter  prevailed,  and  the  Babylonia  was  sent  to  the  bottom. 

But  me  Apodoter  saved,  and,  having  learned  my  history,  set  me  safe  at 
Caesarea. 

And  now  I  am  in  Jerusalem,  at  an  inn,  and  here  have  I  mine  earliest  oppor¬ 
tunity  for  to  write  to  thee. 

And  I  must  tell  thee  of  a  dream  which  I  dreamed  about  thee  last  night. 
I  dreamed  I  was  in  an  unknown  country,  a  wanderer,  and  separate  from  thee. 
And  it  was  night  over  all  that  country.  But  I  saw,  as  it  were  a  great  shadow  (or 
concentration  of  the  darkness)  which  was  truly  thee,  but  which,  for  that  it  was 
thee,  was  very  beautiful.  And  I  opened  up  mine  arms,  and  wrould  have  seized 
upon  thee,  but  that  the  sun  arose,  and,  as  the  light  came  full  upon  thee,  thou 
didst  begin  to  waver  and  recede,  and  at  length  dissolved  into  the  great  light 
which  was  there  all  about. 

Would  that  I  had  the  tongue  or  pen  of  Lampadephorus,  then  would  I  tell  thee 
of  the  misery  which,  at  that  time,  I  felt. 

Canst  thou  now  forgive  me,  O  Amahnah?  I  will  not  wander  more,  or  stray 
from  the  ways  of  the  Lord.  And  even  Abaddone,  the  Syrian,  she  is  gone,  as 
also  her  brother  Shikkuts  with  her.  For  they  that  carried  me  into  captivity,  they, 
the  very  same,  did  slay  both  Shikkuts  and  his  sister.  And  I  will  keep  the  sign 
of  the  Covenant,  which  is  our  Sabbath,  to  the  finest  letter  of  the  Law.  And  I 
will  learn  continually  of  him  with  whom  I  shall  later  stay,  even  Parush,  and 
will  help  him  to  multiply  our  laws,  that  every  single  law  may  have  yet  other  laws, 
and  they  still  others,  in  greater  and  greater  abundance  and  profusion,  that  the 
laws  of  Moses  may  be  high-hedged  about,  and  none  of  the  heathen  may  ever  come 
anigli  unto  the  souls  of  Jews.  May  the  Lord  do  thus  and  more  also  unto  me,  if 
I  keep  my  promise  not. 

Such,  O  Child  of  God,  is  my  history,  nor  have  I  shunned  in  any  wise  or 
unto  any  degree  to  declare  unto  thee  the  whole  of  it. 

Wilt  thou  suffer  me  to  say  more?  Be  not  offended,  O  Child  of  God,  for  thou 
art  very  dear  unto  me,  and  once  the  Chazzan,  he  that  dwelt  in  the  synagogue  at 
Cyrene,  did  say  unto  me:  “Take  thou  her  to  wife,  so  be  that  she  will  have  thee.” 
But  mine  eyes  were  holden,  for  that  I  was  very  young,  and  did  not  see  thee 
clearly.  Nor  did  I  clearly  see  thee  until  that  my  body  was  sealed  as  a  slave  in 
the  very  bowels  of  the  ship.  But  now  I  know  thee  who  thou  art,  as  never  I  did 
know  thee  heretofore. 

Dost  thou  remember  how,  O  Amahnah,  in  days  that  are  gone,  we  took  each 
other  by  our  tiny  hands,  both  thou  and  I,  and  over  the  hills  we  rushed  with  hearts 
rejoicing,  watching  our  shadows  linked  together  before  us  in  the  humble  dust, 
and  all  the  wTorld  was  God’s,  and  we  also?  Dost  thou  remember  that,  thou  who 
art  brighter  than  the  bluest  of  heavens  and  far  truer  and  like  unto  the  roses  for 
all  sweetness?  Dost  thou  remember?  If  thou  dost  remember,  and  thou  canst  yet 
forgive  me,  after  all  those  my  many  transgressions,  then  come  thou  hither  unto 
me.  Come  thou  unto  me,  O  lily  of  all  loveliness,  be  thou  mine  and  come. 

Come  thou  unto  me  in  Jerusalem,  0  Eose  of  Sharon. 

Bring  thou  with  thee  the  body  of  Betah.  And  we  will  lay  it  in  Jehosaphat, 
that  ever  it  may  be  anigh  unto  us.  Would  that  the  spirit  of  that  man  might 
also  come. 

And  we  will  live,  both  thou  and  I,  in  the  House  of  Bread,  which  is  Bethlehem, 
and  which  is  anigh  unto  Jerusalem.  And  I  will  watch  the  sacred  sheep  which 
feed  round  about  Migdal  Eder,  and  thou  shalt  keep  the  blessing  in  my  house. 

Wilt  thou  come? 

I  will  not  go  up  unto  the  Temple,  there  to  show  me  to  the  High  Priest  until 
I  know  that  thou  art  with  me  in  the  Land.  But  then,  if  thou  comest  and  con- 
sentest,  I  will  go.  And  I  shall  then  be  a  priest,  and  will  serve  the  Lord  our  God 
in  His  holy  Temple  on  the  mountain  each  time  whenas  my  sacred  course  is  called. 


DIVINE  ASSISTANCE 


139 


And  on  each  of  my  other  days  I  will  watch  my  sheep,  which  shall  be  about  the 
tower  of  Eder. 

Wilt  thou  not  come? 

And  Amahnah  ran  with  gladness,  and  answered  the  letter  of 
Samson,  which  was  also  Solomon,  of  Cyrene,  on  that  very  night.  And 
she  writ  full  many  a  pleasant  thing  unto  him. 


CHAPTER  XXII 
Rejected  and  Despised  of  Men 

So  Amahnah  came  to  Jerusalem,  and  brought  the  dead  body  of 
the  Chazzan  with  her,  which  had  been  embalmed.  And  Samson  laid 
the  body  in  the  Valley  of  Jehosaphat,  that  it  might  be  ever  anigh 
unto  them  twain. 

Then  was  celebrated  the  joyful  wedding  of  Samson-Solomon  with 
Amahnah,  or  Berith,  which  was  also  Machashebethel. 

And  they  twain  gat  them  down  unto  Bethlehem  to  live. 

Then  said  Samson  to  his  bride,  1 1  Now  that  thou  art  with  me,  I 
have  full  courage  to  go  up  unto  the  Hall  of  Polished  Stones,  there  to 
show  my  title  to  the  priesthood.’’  He  held  his  arms  out  wide  to  her, 
and  she  kissed  him  and  bade  him  go  into  peace. 

So  he  went  up  to  Jerusalem,  saying  to  the  keeper  of  the  door  to 
the  Hall  of  Polished  Stones :  “Say  thou  unto  him  that  is  High  Priest 
that  one  from  Cyrenaica,  a  man  of  priestly  family  and  a  servant  of 
the  Lord,  is  come,  and  would  shew  both  his  credentials  and  himself, 
that  he  which  is  highest  may  see  whether  he  be  not  worthy  of 
admittance  unto  the  priesthood.” 

Then  took  the  keeper  of  the  door  Samson  into  a  little  private 
chamber  of  the  Temple,  and  said  unto  him :  4  ‘  Stand  and  wait.  ’  ’ 

There  awaited  Samson  many  hours,  till  he  feared,  on  a  time,  that 
the  great  High  Priest  would  never  come  to  him. 

But  now  he  heard  a  quiet,  stately  step  in  a  nearby  corridor.  It 
paused  for  a  moment,  hesitant  at  the  door  of  the  little  room,  and 
then — Samson  saw  before  him  the  great  High  Priest  of  Jerusalem. 

His  heart  fluttered,  and  his  knees  became  as  water.  His  head 
turned  round  and  round,  for  that  now  was  come  the  moment  unto 
which  he  had  so  long  looked  forward,  and  which  he  had  seen  so  often 
in  delightful  dreams. 

The  High  Priest  went  up  upon  a  dais,  which  was  hedged  about 
with  snow-white  marble  railing.  A  tall,  a  lean,  a  very  stately  man, 
with  high,  white,  ample  head  and  face,  all  dignity  and  love — yet, 


140  SIMON  OF  CYRENE 

behind  the  sweet  benevolence,  an  unyielding  pride,  an  inexorable 
austerity. 

The  High  Priest  sate  him  down  on  a  throne  of  gold  and  ivory, 
which  wras  uplift  on  the  dais,  and,  taking  in  his  hands  a  sheaf  of 
parchments,  began  to  peruse  them.  But  after  a  time  he  laid  these 
parchments  down,  and,  lifting  up  his  eyes  on  high,  repeated  the 
Shema.  When  he  had  done  this,  then,  for  a  very  long  time,  he  sate 
absorbed  in  lofty  contemplation,  his  hard-set  features  frozen  (as  it 
seemed  to  him  that  waited)  in  an  eternal  and  uninterruptible  repose. 

Then  would  Samson  have  slipped  forth  out  of  the  room,  for  he 
was  throbbing  of  heart,  but  the  High  Priest  at  length  beheld  him, 
and,  smiling  with  a  certain  sweetness,  said  unto  him:  “I  crave  thy 
forgiveness:  I  had  completely  forgotten  thee.” 

Then  Samson  of  Cyrene  could  look  no  more  for  gladness,  but 
cast  down  his  eyes.  And  yet  he  was  not,  of  custom,  a  fearful  man. 

“Thou  art  come  from  Cyrenaica,  and  thy  name  is  Solomon  and 
Samson.” 

“My  name  is  Solomon  and  Samson,  and  out  of  the  distant  folds 
of  Cyrenaica  come  I.” 

“And  thou  wouldst  have  admission  unto  the  priesthood?” 

“Unto  the  priesthood,  Father,  would  I  have  admission.” 

“Thy  body — it  is  free  from  blemish?” 

“It  is  wholly  without  blemish.” 

“Let  me  behold  thy  genealogy,  thy  credentials.” 

Then  slipped  Samson-Solomon  his  trembling  fingers  up  about  his 
neck,  fearing  that  now,  at  length,  the  locket  would  surely  be  gone. 
But  behold  it  was  present,  and  he  had  it  firmly  in  his  strong  fingers. 
But  ere  he  had  loosed  it  from  around  his  neck,  the  High  Priest  said 
to  him — 

“Thou  art  of  Levi?” 

“Of  Levi.” 

“And  the  family  of  Aaron?” 

‘ 1  The  family  of  Aaron,  0  Father. ’  ’ 

“And  thy  course?” 

“The  course  of  Jedaiah.” 

Then  said  Annas,  * ‘ Thou  art  truly  of  the  same  great  course  as  I.” 
He  smiled  most  delicately  upon  Samson.  “The  course  of  Jedaiah,  0 
my  son,  as  thou  must  know,  is  of  the  house  of  Jeshua,  the  son  of 
Jozadak.” 

“I  know,  0  my  father,  that  that  is  true.  I  do  surely  know  it.” 

But,  for  all  of  Samson’s  great  pulling,  would  neither  the  locket 
come  from  off  the  chain,  nor  yet  the  chain  from  around  his  neck. 


DIVINE  ASSISTANCE 


141 


And  the  High  Priest  offered  not  to  help  him,  but  sate  with  his  fine, 
dry  smile,  upon  his  lofty  throne  of  gold  and  ivory,  one  patient  hand 
reached  out —  “My  son,”  said  he,  at  length,  “I  must  hasten  to  take 
this  into  the  Hall  of  Polished  Stones,  where  sits  the  Sanhedrim. 
Wilt  thou  not  reach  to  me  the  locket?” 

Thereupon  Samson  gave  a  mighty  pull,  and  the  chain  brake,  and 
he  reached  out  hastily  a  hand  that  was  all  trembling  for  sheer  joy 
and  with  happiness  at  the  thought  of  what  Leah,  who  was  also  Berith 
and  Amahnah,  Enooth  and  Machashebethel,  would  say,  when  that  her 
husband  had  become  a  priest  accepted  in  the  great  Hall  of  Polished 
Stones.  And  he  handed  the  locket  to  the  High  Priest. 

And  the  outstretched  hand — a  slim,  old,  tapering,  august  and 
imperious  hand — opened  and  then  closed  upon  the  locket.  The  hand 
carried  the  locket  nearer  unto  the  aristocratic  eyes. 

So  smote  the  knees  of  Samson  one  against  the  other,  and  his  heart 
beat  fast,  and  his  neck  trembled  and  his  back  bowed  low,  and  all  his 
soul  was  filled  with  awe  and  joy,  and  yet  with  great  fear  also, 
because  of  the  trial  which  now  was  come  upon  him.  “A  priest,  a 
priest,  a  priest!”  he  shouted  in  his  heart  steadfastly,  “a  priest  in 
the  Temple  of  the  Lord  God,  even  El-Shaddai,  a  priest  unto  Jehovah, 
and  for  all  this  world !  ’  ’ 

And  he  was  not,  for  a  certain  time,  able,  by  any  manner  of  means, 
to  look  up  higher  than  the  High  Priest’s  lean,  imperious  hand.  Yet, 
when  he  could  look  up  higher,  he  saw  that  the  wonderful  eyes  were 
gazing  upon  the  locket  with  a  strange  and  curious  steadfastness. 
Therefore  Simon  could  no  longer  contain  himself,  but  cried  aloud: 
“Open,  0  Father,  and  show  to  mine  eyes  both  the  parchment  and  the 
pearls !  ’  ’ 

But  the  High  Priest  said  unto  him,  with  confidence:  “Be  not 
afraid.  The  pearls  that  are  in  the  locket,  my  son,  they  are  wholly 
invisible,  save  to  El-Shaddai,  the  Lord.  Thou  art  not  to  blame  for 
thy  failure  of  understanding,  but  the  pearls  are  metaphorical  only. 
By  ‘pearls’  we  mean  the  authentication  of  a  perfect  body,  perfect 
soul,  and  perfect  spirit — which  three  things  (in  addition  to  his 
genealogy)  a  priest  to  Jehovah  must  surely  show.  Chiefly  we  care 
about  the  genealogy.  ’  ’ 

He  took  and  opened  the  locket,  very  well  understanding  the  secret 
of  its  spring. 

And  he  removed  the  parchment,  and  scanned  it  again  and  yet 
again,  while  his  brows  grew  darker  and  darker,  and  his  small  eyes 
blazed  with  sacred  lightnings. 

He  looked  for  a  time  at  Samson-Solomon  most  earnestly.  Once 


142 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


again  the  young  priest  could  no  longer  contain,  but  brake  forth  in 
an  inarticulate  cry.  Said  he,  hoarsely  whispering:  “My  locket! 
Give  me  back  my  locket !  ’  ’ 

The  High  Priest  said,  “Follow  me  into  the  Hall  of  Polished 
Stones.’  ’ 

Then  followed  him  Samson  of  Cyrene  into  the  Hall,  and  before 
the  Sanhedrim,  and  was  like  unto  a  drunken  man  for  swaying. 

And  the  High  Priest  passed  the  locket  round  about  the  members 
of  the  great  court,  as  these  did  sit  in  judgment.  And  they  each 
and  all  did  gaze  upon  the  parchment,  and  none  did  speak.  The 
locket  was  handed  back  unto  Annas. 

Who  thereupon  took  it,  and  flung  it  against  the  pavement  at  the 
young  man’s  feet,  shouting:  “Jestest  thou  so  with  the  High  Priest? 
Thou  art  not  Samson-Solomon  of  Cyrene,  but  Simon  of  anywhere 
and  nowhere ;  for  thy  favors  they  go  to  shameless  harlots  and 
idolatry.  ’  ’ 

Samson  gave  a  cry  and  rushed  to  save  his  locket.  Taking  it  up, 
said  he  to  the  Sanhedrim:  “Is  there  not  in  this  court  one  single 
judge  that  will  hear  me  ?  For  see !  there  is  surely  some  mistake.  The 
Chazzan  at  Cyrene  did  certainly  give  unto  my  keeping  this  locket. 
Nay,  he  did  fasten  the  very  chain  about  my  neck.  Said  he  to  me 
then,  4  Thou  art  one  of  the  Lord ’s  priests ;  for  behold  thou  comest  of 
the  tribe  of  Levi,  the  family  of  Aaron,  and  the  course  of  Jedaiah — art 
therefore  also  of  the  family  of  him  that  is  High  Priest  in  Jerusalem. 
I  beg  of  you,  therefore,  0  judges,  that  ye  will  not  thus  summarily 
dismiss  me,  but  look  with  kindness  and  with  patience  yet  a  little 
further  into  these  my  claims.” 

Then  one  that  was  in  the  court,  that  was  kinder  than  any  of  the 
others,  said  unto  him:  “Hast  thou  not  thyself  at  some  time  looked 
into  this  locket  ?  ’  ’ 

“Never,  0  Father.  Never  have  I  so  much  as  touched  the  secret 
spring.” 

4 4  Hast  thou,  then,  not  some  time  lent  thy  locket  out  ?  ’  ’ 

“Nay,  nor  would  ever  think  of  doing  so.” 

4 4  Hast  thou  not,  then,  at  any  time,  let  some  other  hand  than  thine 
intermeddle  with  this,  the  spring  of  its  opening?” 

4 4  By  no  means,  Father ;  oh  by  no  means.  ’  ’  Then  said  he,  trembling 
and  in  a  great  chill:  4 4 By  benevolent  wile  the  Rabbi  Azrikam  once 
saved  it  for  me,  0  Father,  taking  it  from  my  bosom  and  wearing  it 
on  his  own,  till  I,  a  wanderer,  did  return  from  being  with  a  strange 
and  subtile  woman.” 

Then  once  again  he  could  contain  no  more,  but  brake  forth,  spite 


DIVINE  ASSISTANCE 


143 


of  his  wishes,  into  a  grievous  lamentation :  “  My  pearls!  My  pearls! 
My  title  to  the  priesthood !  ’  ’ 

Said  the  man  that  was  kinder  than  any  of  the  others:  “Let  be 
thy  pearls,  fellow :  thou  hast  no  genealogy. — Whom  hast  thou 
married  ?  ’  ’ 

“Amahnah,  the  Child  of  God.” 

‘  ‘  Knowest  thou  what  a  ‘  child  of  God  ’  is  ?  ’  ’ 

“Yea — a  foundling.” 

“Very  true.  And  so,  even  if  thou  thyself  didst  ever  come  into 
the  priesthood,  even  then  thy  children  could  not  so  do,  for  the  blood 
of  their  mother  would  be  unknown  to  us.” 

“But  Betah — her  genealogy — he  must  have  known — he  insisted 
that  I  marry  her — he  knew  many  things — he  must  have  known — this 
Betah — ” 

“Call  thou  not  upon  Betah,  for  I  have  spoken.” 

But  Simon  prayed  them,  and  supplicated  them  that  they  would 
not  be  overharsh  with  him.  “As  for  myself,”  said  he,  “it  may 
happen  that  I  shall  be  able  to  set  you  forth  my  genealogy  in  some 
other  way.  There  may  be  copies  of  these  things.  Is  not  there  here 
a  copy,  here  in  J erusalem  ?  It  was  once  said  unto  me —  Is  there  not 
a  copy  even  here,  in  this  very  Temple — perchance  both  of  mine  own 
genealogy  and  of  her  that  lieth  in  my  bosom?  Betah  must  have 
sent —  There  must  be  many  secrets — ” 

But  the  High  Priest:  “I  speak  as  official  Israel,  and  I  do  hereby 
declare  unto  thee  that  I  am  indeed  glad  of  this  excuse  to  be  rid  of 
thee  forever,  thou  who  art  humble  and  ignorant  and  unknown.  We 
have  not  thy  genealogy.  Believes!  thou  that  such  as  we  could,  in 
any  case,  consort —  But  get  hence !  I  have  sober  business !  ’ ’ 

And  attendants  took  the  man,  and  clad  him  (as  the  custom  was 
with  all  that  had  failed  to  establish  a  claim  which  they  had  made 
unto  the  priesthood)  wholly  in  black.  Then  led  they  him  forth,  and 
cast  him  from  the  Temple. 

And  he  ran  across  the  bridge  of  glory  which  spanned  the  Tyro- 
poean,  crying:  “Woe  is  me,  oh  woe  is  me!”  And  went  without  the 
walls  into  the  valley  of  Gehenna,1  where  the  tilth  of  the  city  was  daily 
gathered,  and  by  firemen  consumed. 

Now  the  night  had  come,  and  all  the  valley  was  filled  with  red 
fires  and  great  smoke,  so  that  Samson  thought:  “It  is  no  marvel 
they  make  this  place  a  symbol  of  hell,  and  that  they  call  the  habita¬ 
tions  of  the  damned  ‘Gehenna.’  ”  And  he  saw  the  firemen,  how  they 


1  Or  “Geliinnom.” 


144 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


forked  up  the  filth  and  placed  it  on  the  piles  for  burning.  One  of 
them  came  unto  him,  and  said  in  jest:  “Art  thou  also  a  portion  of 
the  filth,  0  soul  in  a  black  garment,  and  wilt  thou  be  consumed  V’ 
Samson  had  no  heart  to  smite  the  man,  or  yet  to  revile  him,  but 
answered:  “Yea,  I  am  filth,  for  I,  a  priest  of  Israel,  have  been 
rejected  by  the  High  Priest  and  by  the  Sanhedrim  also.  Oh  woe  is 
me,  is  me,  is  me !  ’  ’ 

And  he  fled  to  the  other  wall  of  the  valley,  while  they  that  attended 
the  burning  cast  piles  of  filth  both  upon  him  and  after  him,  and 
howled  their  derision.  Still  he  smote  them  not,  but  went  by  the  way 
of  the  plain  of  the  Rephaim,  and  fetching  a  compass  round  about 
Migdal  Eder,  attained  to  Bethlehem  and  his  home. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 
0  Little  Palestinian  House! 

Now  when  first  he  beheld  again  Amahnah,  Samson  could  not 
speak,  but  only  took  out  his  locket  from  his  scrip  and  gazed  upon  it 
ruefully.  Then  he  saw  that  his  rightful  name  (as  he  was  led  to 
believe)  was  Simon.  And  so  it  was  that  he  came  to  the  later  name, 
that  name  which  he  bore  forever  thereafter,  until  in  his  mind  some¬ 
times  arose  a  feeling  that  he  had  borne  it  for  all  time. 

But,  after  he  had  doffed  his  garment  of  rejection,  and  had  burned 
it,  then  spake  he  to  Amahnah,  and  without  restraint,  of  all  those 
things  which  had  fortuned  unto  him,  since,  before  high  day,  he  had 
set  out  for  Jerusalem. 

Said  Amahnah,  “Be  not  downcast,  neither  heavy  at  all  of  heart. 
Thou  hast  not  lost  the  priesthood,  but  only  the  showing  of  the  title 
thereof,  thy  right  to  claim  it.  He  that  did  reject  thee  is  not  of 
spiritual,  but  only  official,  Israel.  But  speak  unto  Parush:  have  him 
get  thee  the  attendance  of  the  sheep  which  are  meant  for  the  Temple 
sacrifices,  and  which  feed  round  Migdal  Eder.  For  this  humble  office 
thou  art  not  any  wise  disqualified.  We  shall  yet  be  happy.” 

Said  Simon,  “I  have  not  indeed  lost  all.  As  thou  sayest,  I  am 
still  truly  a  priest.  And  thee,  my  Purpose  of  God,  I  still  have  by 
me.  I  will  do  even  as  thou  dost  say,  and  talk  with  Parush.  ’  ’ 

So,  on  the  morrow,  Simon  went  up  to  Jerusalem  again,  and  saw 
Parush,  and  besought  him  that  he,  even  Simon,  the  Rejected,  might 
be  made  a  shepherd  of  the  Temple  sheep  which  flocked  round  Migdal 
Eder.  Parush  spake  to  them  that  had  the  supervision  of  this  matter, 


DIVINE  ASSISTANCE 


145 


and,  as  Simon  wished,  so  it  was  done.  But  Parush  said  to  him,  “Apt 
as  thou  art  in  the  study  of  the  Law,  it  were  better  thou  leftest  the 
herding  of  sheep  to  others,  and  came  up  unto  the  City  and  dwelt  be¬ 
side  me,  that  I  might  instruct  thee.  Better  it  is  to  be  a  Pharisee  and  a 
Rabbi  than  even  a  Sadducee  and  a  priest.  For  lo !  in  all  this  world  and 
that  which  is  to  come,  there  is  nothing  that  is  equal  unto  the  Law. 
And  who  is  like  to  the  teachers  of  the  Law ?  There  is  one  of  the  say¬ 
ings  which  saith  that  a  rabbi  is  to  be  believed,  even  should  he  declare 
that  the  right  hand  is  the  left  or  the  left  hand  the  right.  Each  and 
every  scribe  (that  is,  one  that  is  learned  in  the  Law)  outweigheth 
all  the  common  people  of  the  world  combined.  God  himself  (for  one 
ensample)  loveth  to  do  me  honor,  and  my  praises  are  proclaimed 
each  day  in  heaven  by  the  angels.  Come  thou,  therefore,  and  be  with 
me  as  a  Talmid.” 

But  Simon’s  heart  was  set  upon  the  sheep,  and  he  went  back 
unto  Bethlehem,  and  became  a  shepherd  of  the  flocks  which  herd 
round  Migdal  Eder. 

On  a  certain  evening,  when  all  the  sheep  had  been  gathered  and 
counted  at  a  well-filled  brook,  and  Simon  of  Cyrene  spake  at  ease 
with  many  other  shepherds,  then  fell  these  to  discoursing  about  the 
Moches  (tax-farmers)  and  the  Gabbai  (tax-gatherers).  “Accursed 
be  Caesarea,”  exclaimed  one  of  the  group. 

“Yea,  thrice  over  accursed,”  said  an  older,  he  they  called 
Gheburah.  “See  what  now  they  levy  on  us,  these  Romans.  From 
twelve  till  sixty-five,  both  bond  and  free,  we  pay  the  Roman  head- 
money,  and  there  is  no  escape.  And  all  our  land  must  give  one  tenth 
its  grain,  one  fifth  its  wine  and  fruits.  Then  there  be  bridge-money 
and  road-money,  gate-money  also,  and  taxes  on  every  caravan,  a  special 
tax  on  sheep,  taxes  on  all  who  come  into  the  Land  and  all  who  go  out 
therefrom,  and  even  harbor-taxes  thitherward  at  Joppa.  Of  old  it  was 
counted  a  great  sin  for  to  number  the  people,  but  our  Roman  conquer¬ 
ors,  behold  they  do  number  us  in  the  Land  continually.  And  why? 
Only  to  rob  us  of  everything.  ’ 9 

“Woe  is  Canaan,”  cried  another  shepherd,  hard  by. 

“Woe  is  Palestine,”  another,  far  away. 

“Ye  may  well  say  ‘Woe, 9  99  went  on  Gheburah.  “For  not  only 
are  we  robbed,  but  here  is  a  fearsome  question  which  even  the  Scribes 
ask,  and  yet —  Is  it  lawful  to  pay  tribute  unto  Caesar?” 

He  had  lowered  his  voice,  and  was  now  looking  carefully  about. 
All  the  other  shepherds  too,  holding  their  hands  above  their  eyes, 
looked  over  the  meadows  to  the  hills. 

Said  Simon,  warily:  “Caesar,  I  understand,  hath  great  jealousy 
10 


146 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


of  his  headship  over  this  world,  and  none  among  us  in  the  Land 
durst  try  to  answer  such  a  question.  Let  us  therefore  leave  it  as  a 
riddle  that  cannot  be  interpreted,  for  even  the  hills  hereby  have  ears 
and  the  rocks  may  find  voices.” 

“Thou  hast  caught  it  in  the  crook,”  answered  Gheburah.  He 
spake  even  lower,  as  he  said:  “But  hearken,  and  I  will  tell  thee 
what  I  myself  beheld  three  days  ago,  when  I  had  taken  the  first 
flock  of  the  year  to  the  Temple,  and  had  come  back  over  the  Tyropoean 
bridge.  There  was  a  man  in  the  Street  of  the  Coppersmiths,  that 
took  a  rabbi  by  the  throat,  and  said  unto  him :  ‘  Sirrah,  thou  hast  not 
yet  paid  thy  poll-tax.’  And  he  dragged  him  off  to  prison.” 

Then  spake  up  a  yet  elder  shepherd,  saying:  “But  wdiat  is  that? 
Only  yesterday  I  saw  a  Jewish  widow  over  Jericho  way,  which  could 
not  pay  the  taxes  on  her  home.  And  the  soldiers  cast  her  rudely  out, 
crying :  ‘  Thou  bitch  of  a  J ewess !  ’  and  they  scourged  her  so  that  she 
fell  and  knew  nothing. 

“A  neighbor  took  her  in,  and  comforted  her,  and  gave  her  in  the 
charge  of  his  wife — though  he  himself  is  but  an  cim-ha-aret.” 

“Hast  thou  not  heard,”  put  in  then  Gheburah,  “that  one — a  rabbi 
from  Bethlehem  at  that — went  unto  Jerusalem,  and  protested  as 
against  these  things.” 

“And  what  responded  Pilate?”  asked  the  eldest  shepherd. 

“  ‘Do  ye  not  yourselves  consume  your  widows’  houses?’  Thus 
said  he.  And  also,  ‘Behold  the  Pharisees  among  you,  love  they  not 
the  homes  of  widows  and  of  orphans  and  of  all  that  are  desolate?’  ” 

‘  ‘  What  answered  the  rabbi  ?  ’  ’ 

“He  parted  his  garment  and  tore  his  hair,  and  cast  dust  on  his 
head,  and  came  away,  accursing.  ’  ’ 

“Was  he  guilty  of  these  things?” 

“He  was  guilty.  Woe  is  Israel!” 

“Woe  is  Israel  indeed!”  said  Simon,  softly.  Then,  balling  his 
great  fists:  “Would  that  Messiah  were  come.” 

‘  ‘  Hath  He  not  come  ?  ’  ’  cried  Gheburah,  as  his  eyes  brightened,  and 
the  lines  grew  deep  and  strong  about  his  face. 

Simon,  seeing  that  the  man’s  heart  was  stirred,  let  his  crook  fall, 
and  stood  over  against  him,  listening. 

“Hath  He  not  come?”  cried  again  Gheburah.  Then,  with  the 
voice  of  a  trumpet:  “He  hath  come!” 

An  echo  arose  from  the  way  of  Bethlehem,  in  some  or  another 
hill,  shouting  triumphantly :  ‘  ‘  He  hath  come  !  ’  ’ 

And  all  the  shepherds  ceased  to  speak,  looking  in  turn  over 
Bethlehem  way.  And  a  yet  more  distant  echo  rejoiced  from  a  hill 
in  the  way  of  Jerusalem,  “He  hath  come.” 


DIVINE  ASSISTANCE 


147 


The  silence  of  the  shepherds  continued  until  Gheburah,  in  a 
voice  of  true  conviction,  declared  again  to  Simon,  as  if  these  mat¬ 
ters  were  something  which  should  never  be  forgot :  ‘  ‘  He  hath 

come.  Yea,  He  hath  come.  By  the  God  of  Israel,  Israel  shall  be 
revenged.  ’  ’ 

Said  a  yet  elder  shepherd,  “Behold!  The  sheep  stray.  They  are 
frightened  at  thy  voice,  0  Gheburah/  *  And  he  went  off  calmly  with 
his  crook  in  the  way  toward  Jerusalem,  calling:  “Sheep,  sheep, 
sheep !  She-e-e-p  !  Sheep,  sheep !  ’  ’ 

And  here  came  all  the  lamblings  back,  bounding  and  capering 
about  him  with  little  crisp,  loving  voices. 

Oh  the  sadness  and  the  affection  of  those  voices! 

And  Ohab  (for  such  was  his  name)  brought  the  sheep  together 
at  the  brook.  And  he  stood  in  the  midst  of  the  sheep,  which  crowded 
and  bleated  all  about  him. 

And  Simon  noted  the  difference  in  the  face  of  Ohab,  him  that 
attended  the  sheep  lovingly,  and  the  surly  countenance  of  Gheburah. 
For  over  the  eyes  of  Ohab  the  years  had  drawn  a  little  mist,  a  tender 
veil,  behind  whose  softnesses  the  old,  sweet  spirit  dreamed,  losing 
itself  in  God.,  But  when  the  man  awakened  and  became  more 
attentive  unto  his  surroundings,  then  the  mists  of  the  body  cleared 
away,  the  eyes  grew  brightly  tremulous,  like  twin  stars,  and  the 
inward  life  of  holy  communion  shone  out  plainly  unto  the  world. 
But  Gheburah  had  all  the  time  brightly  observant  eyes.  And  he 
guarded  the  sheep  more  closely  than  did  Ohab,  yet  not  by  any  means 
better.  For  behold!  even  the  old  rams  loved  Ohab,  and  the  tiny 
lamblets  skipped  and  danced  not  only  when  he  played  on  pipes  or 
tabret,  but  even  at  the  sound  of  his  voice. 

And  now  the  sheep  were  gathered  all  about  Ohab. 

And  one  that  was  called  Ivveleth  (or  “Levity”)  a  far  younger 
shepherd,  said  to  Ohab:  “Would,  0  Ohab,  that  I  loved  these  little 
creatures  as  thou  dost.  But  how  sad  are  the  voices  of  the  sheep !  It 
liketh  me  not,  a  shepherd’s  life;  there  is  in  it  no  gayety.  The  wide 
wilderness  is  sad,  and  sadder  the  weary  waste  beyond  it — sad,  sad. 
And  the  sound  of  the  winds  as  they  speak  in  the  tree-tops  and  the 
grasses,  it  also  is  sad.  Yet  I  know  not  what,  in  any  other  calling,  I 
should  be  able  to  do.  So  I  stay  a  shepherd.” 

And,  at  this,  Gheburah  seeing  that  one  of  the  sheep  did  nibble  at 
another’s  ears  and  caused  that  they  should  bleed,  gave  a  loud,  fierce 
cry,  and  hurled  his  crook  among  the  sheep. 

And  they  fled  panic-stricken,  some  in  one  way,  some  in  another. 

Until  the  gentle  Ohab,  calling,  calling,  still  from  the  same  very 


148  SIMON  OF  CYRENE 

spot  where  he  had  stood  in  the  midst  of  them,  began  to  gather  the 
sheep  together  again. 

But  Ivveleth,  restless  and  full  of  antic  follies,  ran  out  after  the 
sheep,  attempting  to  chase  them  in  with  comical  sweeps  of  the  arms. 

And  the  sheep  ran  faster  and  faster. 

And  coming  at  length  to  the  top  of  a  hill,  where  a  great  rock 
was,  a  wolf  shot  out  from  the  shadow  of  the  rock  and  seized  a  lambling 
with  its  teeth  and  made  away. 

Then  tears  came  into  the  eyes  of  Ohab.  He  placed  his  little  pipes 
to  his  lips  and  played  softly. 

And  the  sheep  that  were  left,  after  a  time  of  running  again,  came 
back  to  the  place  whereon  the  gentle  shepherd  stood. 

And  Ohab  entered  the  sheep  into  the  fold,  making  fast  the  door. 

And,  on  another  day,  while  the  shepherds  watched  their  flocks, 
Simon  said  to  Gheburah:  ‘ ‘Thou  saidst,  not  very  long  ago,  that 
Messiah  had  come.  Hath  He  come,  or  wast  thou  jesting  V’ 

Said  Gheburah:  “I  jested  not,  for  these  mine  eyes  did  see  Him. 
But  may  those  orbs  be  forever  accursed  that  I  have  seen  Him  not 
again.  Oh,  all  my  life  is  bitterness  that  I  have  seen  Him — seen 
Jehovah  and  seen  Him  not  again  with  javelin  and  sword.” 

He  stood  for  a  very  long  time,  looking  in  the  way  of  Jerusalem. 
Then  his  eyes  softened,  and  he  said  to  Ohab:  4 ‘But  thou,  0  Ohab, 
thou  hast  also  seen,  and  yet  art  not  bitter.  Say  therefore  unto 
Simon  the  story.  May  he  not  be  bitter  when  he  hath  heard  it.” 

Looked  Ohab  (whose  name  meaneth  “Love,”  but  “Gheburah” 
“Force,”  or  “Violence”)  in  the  way  toward  Bethlehem.  And  the 
mist  that  was  often  in  his  eyes  cleared  away.  He  said  in  a  low, 
sweet,  considering  tone:  “We  were  here  among  the  sheep,  Gheburah, 
Ivveleth  and  also  I.  The  night  was  very  sweet  and  still.  And  lo,  the 
angel  of  the  Lord  came  upon  us,  and  the  glory  of  the  Lord  shone 
round  about  us:  and  we  were  sore  afraid.  And  the  angel  said  unto 
us,  Fear  not;  for,  behold,  I  bring  you  good  tidings  of  great  joy, 
which  shall  be  to  all  people.  For  unto  you  is  born  this  day  in  the  city 
of  David  a  Savior,  which  is  Christ  the  Lord.  And  this  shall  be  a  sign 
unto  you ;  Ye  shall  find  the  babe  wrapped  in  swaddling  clothes,  lying 
in  a  manger.  And  suddenly  there  was  with  the  angel  a  multitude  of 
the  heavenly  host  praising  God,  and  saying,  Glory  to  God  in  the  high¬ 
est,  and  on  earth  peace,  good  will  toward  men. 

“And  it  came  to  pass,  as  the  angels  were  gone  away  from  us  into 
heaven,  that  Ivveleth,  Gheburah  and  I,  said  each  unto  each,  ‘Let  us 
go  now  unto  Bethlehem,  and  behold  the  child.’ 

“And  we  came  with  haste,  and  found  a  woman,  Mary,  and  her 


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149 


husband,  Joseph,  which  had  come  to  the  city  of  David  for  to  be 
taxed.  And  their  babe  was  lying  in  a  manger. 

“And  when  we  had  seen  the  child,  we  told  abroad  all  those  things 
which  the  angel  had  declared  unto  us.  And  all  that  heard  did 
marvel  greatly.  We  returned  therefore,  glorifying  and  praising  God 
for  all  the  things  that  we  had  heard  and  seen,  as  it  was  told  unto  us. 

“And  lo!  on  another  day  there  came  wise  men  from  the  East, 
which  were  guided  by  a  star,  and  which  had  passed  by  the  way  of 
Jerusalem.  And  seeing  the  young  child  with  His  mother,  they  fell 
down  and  worshipped  Him :  and  when  they  had  opened  their  treasures, 
they  presented  unto  Him  gifts,  gold,  and  frankincense  and  myrrh.  ’  ’ 
Simon  of  Cyrene,  pondering  these  matters,  thought :  ‘  ‘  Shall  I  see 
thee  yet,  Adonai,  and  in  the  flesh V7  After  a  time:  “Nay,  little 
babe,  thou  wast  too  humble,  I  fear.”  He  recalled  his  own  rejection 
at  the  hands  of  Annas,  the  High  Priest.  “The  High  Priest  said,” 
quoth  Simon,  as  he  recollected,  “I  am  indeed  glad  of  this  for  an 
excuse—that  thou  has  lost  thy  genealogy.  For  thou  art  humble, 
humble  and  very  unknown.  ’  ’ 

Then  said  Simon  to  Gheburah,  “Thinkest  thou  truly  that  this 
could  have  been  Messiah  ?  ’ 1 

Gheburah  answered  and  said  unto  him,  “I  sometimes  believe  and 
sometimes  not.  For  that  was  many,  many  years  ago,  and,  as  yet,  I 
have  seen  no  sword.” 

And  Amahnah  and  Simon  went,  each  Sabbath,  with  phylacteries 
on  their  arms  and  foreheads,  unto  the  little  synagogue  in  Bethlehem. 
It  stood  in  the  highest  quarter  of  the  town,  where  two  ways  met,  and, 
rising  from  its  roof,  a  golden  pole.  Pound  the  building  was  a  porch 
of  slender  Ionic  columns,  to  show  (together  with  the  pole)  that  the 
place  was  a  house  of  teaching  and  of  prayer. 

Over  the  door  of  the  entrance  were  a  seven-branched  candlestick 
and  a  pot  of  manna,  lightly  cut  in  the  lintel-stone.  And  the  prose¬ 
lytes  might  not  go  in,  but  hung  about  the  door  within  the  porch. 

And  when  they  twain  had  entered  into  the  synagogue,  then  were 
Simon  and  his  “Covenant”  made  separate  and  apart,  each  from 
each.  For  behold!  Amahnah  was  constrained  to  enter  the  court  for 
women,  which  was  boarded  off  and  set  to  itself  with  lattices,  but 
into  the  court  of  the  men  went  Simon.  And  the  heads  of  all  the  men 
were  covered.  But  both  the  women  and  the  men,  as  they  sate,  did 
face  Jerusalem.  And  the  floor  was  strewn  with  mint  for  a  purifica¬ 
tion  and  a  sweet  smell. 

Now  at  the  opposite  end  of  the  room  was  a  platform,  or  bima, 
and  at  the  edge  thereof  which  was  nearest  to  the  congregation,  a 


150 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


reading  desk,  or  migdal  ez.  Behind  this  desk  the  reader  stood  and 
read,  while  the  preacher  ever  sate  beside  him. 

At  the  back  part  of  the  bima  hung  the  veil,  above  it,  the  ever¬ 
burning  lamp.  Nearby  was  the  eight-branched  candlestick,  and,  back 
of  the  veil,  the  ark,  wherefrom  the  Chazzan,  at  the  proper  time,  got 
out  the  great  rolls  of  the  Law,  presenting  them  to  the  readers. 

Betwixt  the  bima  and  the  common  portion  of  the  congregation 
were  “the  chief  seats”  of  the  synagogue,  whereon  the  rulers  of  the 
synagogue — rabbis,  Pharisees,  men  of  might  and  majesty — sate, 
facing,  with  sternness  and  appropriate  repose,  the  am-ha-arets,  or 
commoner  portion  of  the  people. 

How  often  did  Simon  of  Cyrene  sit  in  that  commoner  portion  of 
the  congregation,  wailing  his  own  deep  ignorance  of  the  Law — wholly 
resolving  that,  come  what  might,  he  would,  on  a  day,  get  him  a  place 
among  the  Pharisees,  a  “chief  seat  in  the  synagogue!”  But  first  of 
all,  a  knowledge  of  the  Law !  Why  should  he  try  to  remain  a 
Sadducee?  His  priesthood  was  a  jibe,  a  jest.  Yet  he  stayed  for  long, 
at  heart,  a  Sadducee  and  a  priest.  His  soul  was  more  in  the  Temple 
than  in  the  synagogue. 

But  how  were  the  synagogue  services  not  impressed  and  stamped 
on  the  mind  of  Simon  of  Cyrene,  so  that,  in  after  years,  when  they 
were  for  him  only  things  of  the  long  gone  past,  the  Sabbath  program 
of  that  village  house  of  prayer  would  come  up  into  his  mind,  would 
not  be  wholly  neglected! 

First  arose  from  among  “the  chief  seats”  some  important  reader, 
and  went  up  on  the  bima.  There,  standing  behind  the  migdal  ez,  he 
pronounced  an  opening  prayer.  Then  he  recited  the  Shema,  and 
having  gone  and  stood  before  the  ark,  he  led  in  prayers  a  while 
(pronouncing  the  eighteen  eulogies,  the  “tephillah”).  Then  the 
Chazzan  pulled  aside  the  veil,  and,  lifting  the  lid  of  the  ark  and 
taking  up  one  of  the  parchments  of  the  Law,  delivered  it  to  the  reader 
for  to  read. 

And  the  reader,  whenas  he  had  returned  to  the  lectern,  read  the 
lesson  of  the  day.  And  the  lesson  was  in  Hebrew.  Therefore,  beside 
him  stood  the  meturgeman,  the  interpreter,  turning  the  Plebrew  into 
Aramaic,  either  phrase  by  phrase  or  sentence  by  sentence.  And 
often  as  many  as  seven  of  them  that  had  sate  in  “the  chief  seats  of 
the  synagogue  ’  ’  would  go  up  behind  the  lectern,  and,  in  turn,  read. 

Then  the  preacher,  the  ‘  ‘  darshan,  ’  ’  sitting,  prosed  away  for  hours, 
and  “taught”  the  people. 

And  sometimes  did  Simon  listen  eagerly,  and  again  he  slipt  down 


DIVINE  ASSISTANCE 


151 


into  his  bench  and  peacefully  slept  in  the  sight  of  all  men,  including 
the  rulers  of  the  synagogue. 

So  was  it  twice  on  every  Sabbath,  and  once  on  Monday  and  on 
Wednesday.  And  Simon  and  Amahnah  went  back,  each  time,  to¬ 
gether,  unto  their  own  dear  home. 

0  little  home  at  Bethlehem,  happy  Bethlehem!  Little  nest  of 
love  and  joy  and  peace,  where  season  after  season,  for  a  time,  brought 
only  well-loved  changes !  Yet  Simon  longed  for  greater  and  ever 
greater  learning  in  the  Law — though  yet,  in  his  heart,  he  remained 
a  priest  and  Sadducee. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 
A  Pupil  of  Parusi-i,  the  Peculiar 

Amahnah  bore  unto  Simon  twins. 

On  a  day,  said  Simon  to  his  wife:  “I  will  name  these  children 
‘Rufus’  and  ‘Alexander.’  ” 

‘  ‘  But  those  names  be  Latin  and  Greek,  ’  ’  said  she. 

“What,  then,  am  I?”  he  answered,  “Pharisee  or  Sadducee?” 
(Whereby  it  would  appear  that  Simon  was  still  a  Sadducee — for  the 
Sadducees  were  friendly  unto  the  Greeks,  also,  in  a  way,  to  the 
Latins — though  not  unto  Roman  rule.) 

“Thou  shouldst  be  of  spiritual  Israel,  dear  husband,  neither 
officialist  nor  formalist.  Take,  therefore,  the  names  of  thy  children 
out  of  the  old  Hebrew,  the  language  of  Jehovah.  Let  the  names  be 
‘Simkah’  and  ‘Gheel, ’  ‘Cheerfulness’  and  ‘Joy.’  For  behold  have  I 
not  brought  unto  thee  both  Joy  and  Cheerfulness?” 

“Thou  hast  indeed,”  said  Simon,  and  kissed  her  tenderly.  “Yet, 
O  Amahnah,  my  heart  is  set  on  this  thing.  I  will  name  my  children 
Rufus  and  Alexander.” 

Amahnah  wept.  But  she  said,  at  length:  “In  any  case,  I  should 
be,  in  part,  satisfied.  For  ‘Rufus’  is  ‘Red.’  And  red  is  the  color, 
not  only  of  sin  and  of  blood,  but  also  of  self-sacrifice  and  joy.  And 
‘Alexander,’  it  meaneth  ‘A  Helper  of  Men.’  And  what  is  cheerful¬ 
ness  indeed  but  man’s  greatest  helper  here  on  earth?” 

So  the  children  were  called,  as  the  husband  would,  “Rufus”  and 
“Alexander.” 

But  ever,  in  the  secret  heart  of  Amahnah,  they  were  “Joy”  and 
‘  ‘  Cheerfulness.  ’  ’ 

Now,  as  Rufus  and  Alexander  the  children  throve  mightily  with 
all  the  months  and  years.  And  Simon’s  heart  was  full  of  gladness 


152 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


and  gratitude  unto  God  for  his  two  sweet  sons.  He  sang  the  whole 
day  long  among  the  sheep  at  Migdal  Eder.  Then,  by  night,  pillowed 
in  the  bosom  of  his  family,  he  slept,  and,  like  Jacob-Israel  of  old, 
dreamed  often  of  angels  and  God.  But  Amahnah  was  sometimes 
gently  sorrowful  (being  more  prophetic  in  her  nature  than  even  her 
God-filled  husband  was),  and,  when  Simon  saith  unto  her,  “Why  dost 
thou  grieve,  my  little  Rose  of  Sharon ?”  then  saith  she,  “0  my  Lion 
and  my  Strength,  I  grieve  over  naught,  being  fond  and  foolish,  and 
thou  wilt  be  sore  angry  with  me.  But  ever  I  have  a  feeling  of 
unspeakable  disaster  that  is  yet  to  come  upon  us.  I  am  much  afeard, 
0  Husband,  I  am  much  afeard.’ ’ 

He  kissed  away  her  dim  forebodings,  and,  taking  his  shepherd’s 
pipe  in  hand,  played.  Then  danced  Amahnah,  and  both  her  children 
with  her. 

And  when  he  had  finished,  said  Simon:  “I  am  glad  that  thou 
dost  wear  thy  raiment  ever  in  blue.  ’  ’ 

“And  why,  0  my  Tower?” 

“Is  not  blue  the  color  of  the  covenant?  And  thou,  art  thou  not 
my  covenant?  even  as  thy  name  doth  signify?” 

And  she,  seeing  the  look  upon  his  face,  ran  unto  him,  and  kissed 
him  yet  again,  and  was  very  glad  because  of  all  these  simple  things. 

And  they  put  their  children  to  the  village  school  in  the  synagogue, 
under  the  guidance  of  the  gray-beard  Chazzan  of  Bethlehem. 

And  Simon  said  unto  the  Chazzan,  “Teach  my  boys,  I  pray  thee, 
all  the  little  rules  thou  knowest  about  the  Law.  Show  unto  them  the 
hedge  which  is  round  the  Scripture.”  But  Amahnah  said  unto  him, 
“Teach  our  boys  at  least  the  love  of  the  Lord  and  of  justice  and 
truth.  ’  ’ 

And  the  children  grew  not  merely  in  stature,  but  also  in  under¬ 
standing,  so  that,  on  a  day,  Amahnah  said  unto  her  husband :  *  ‘  Our 
sons,  are  they  not  far  more  like  unto  me  than  unto  thee?  Are  they 
not  of  my  bone  much  more  than  of  thine,  and  also  of  my  blood? 
Have  not  I  suckled  them  hourly,  the  which  thou  hast  never  done 
and  couldst  not?”  Yet,  at  another  time,  said  she:  “Our  sons,  are 
they  not  of  thee  alone,  and  show  they  not  thy  two  great  sides — both 
commerce  and  the  Law?” 

He  laughed  at  her  foolish  thought.  “I  have,”  saith  he,  “no  side 
for  bartering,  but  am  wholly  of  the  Temple  and  the  synagogue — the 
priesthood  and  the  Law,  and  also”  (here  he  kissed  her)  “wholly  thy 
husband  and  my  dear  children ’s  father.  ’  ’ 

But  she  would  not  have  it  thus.  1 1 1  have  seen  thy  trading  in  thee 
these  several  years,”  saith  she,  “though  thou  dost  ever  seek  to  cloak 


DIVINE  ASSISTANCE 


153 


that  part  of  thee  down  out  of  sight  both  of  me  and  of  all  men.  Each 
time,  when  thou  dost  return  from  Jerusalem,  hast  thou  (tell  me)  more 
or  less  than  thou  didst  go  with  hence?  And  have  we  not  our  home 
and  yet  three  other  homes? — But  the  children!  Rufus — the  Lord 
be  merciful  unto  him — he  is  all  for  business,  even  as  is  the  part  of  thee 
whereof  I  speak.  And  Alexander,  he  is  altogether  for  the  Law,  even 
as  is  another  part  of  one  I  know.  Hast  thou  not  heard  the  Chazzan 
declare  he  hath  never  beheld  a  child  that  seeth  into  the  Law  so 
deeply?  And  all  that  the  child  acquireth  he  remembereth.  But 
Rufus,  he  learneth  nothing  at  all,  save  only  tne  computations.  And 
I  have  noticed  of  a  morning  when  he  setteth  out  for  school,  that  he 
hath,  by  way  of  custom,  just  one  fig  together  with  two  clay 
camels.  Yet  see !  When  he  returneth  at  the  close  of  day,  he  hath 
two  figs  and  a  whole  caravan.  And  he  hath  eaten  several  figs.  Ah 
Simon !  thy  children  do  illuminate  the  several  sides  of  thee.  ’  ’ 

And  Amahnah,  with  her  marble  face  and  violet  eyes  and  long 
silken  lashes  and  her  bright  robe  of  deep  sky  blue,  was  more  than  ever 
as  a  priceless  gem  in  the  eyes  of  Simon  of  Cyrene. 

At  least  until  she  saith,  “0  husband,  Simon,  hast  thou  never 
noticed  also  that  thy  children  have  thy  night-black  eyes,  with  all 
their  unspeakable  sadness  both  of  things  that  are  gone  and  things 
that  are  yet  to  come — and  the  latter  by  far  the  more  numerous  and 
more  plain  to  be  looked  at  ?  ’  ’ 

Whereat  Simon  would  say,  with  a  little  anger:  “Let  be.  We 
are  happy ;  there  shall  come  no  changes.  Wilt  thou  turn  foolish,  and 
become  a  melancholy  prophetess  ?  ’ ’ 

And  he  would  call  his  children  unto  him,  and  question  them  fully, 
as  about  the  Abodah  Sarah,  saying  (for  the  ensample  of  a  single 
afternoon)  : 

‘  ‘  Thou,  Rufus,  answer  me  straight.  How  many  be  the  Sedarim  of 
the  oral  law?” 

“Six.” 

“  It  is  true.  Give  me  their  names.  ’  ’ 

“Nay,  Father,  that  cannot  I.” 

But  Alexander  gave  them. 

Then  said  Simon,  “Thou,  Rufus,  once  again.  What  are  the  titles 
of  the  Seder  Moed?” 

“Nay,  I  know  them  not,  0  Father.” 

But  Alexander  gave  them  quickly,  and  modestly  withal  and  in 
a  low  tone. 

Then  quoth  the  father,  ‘  ‘  Here  is  a  blessed  question,  Rufus,  which 


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I  know  thou  canst  answer.  What  are  the  titles  of  the  Seder 
Neskin  ?  ’  ’ 

Then  arose  Rufus  from  the  place  where  he  had  been  arranging  a 
long,  well-laden  caravan  of  clay  camels,  and  came  and  placed  his 
hands  upon  his  father’s  knees,  and  looked  into  his  eyes  earnestly. 

‘  ‘  That,  ’  ’  said  he,  ‘  ‘  is  the  book  on  Damages,  and  I  do  know  it  by  heart. 
And  these  are  the  titles  of  that  book,  0  Father.  ‘The  First  Gate’ 
(so-called  because  the  law  is  often  administered  in  the  gateway  of  a 
city).  ‘The  Middle  Gate,’  which  treats  of  the  laws  of  tenant  and  of 
landlord,  of  letting  out  to  hire,  of  trusts,  of  usury — of  which  I  intend 
to  have  much.” 

“Son,  Son!  Art  thou  not  a  good  Jew,  0  Son?” 

“For  that  very  reason,  0  Father,  do  I  intend  this  thing.  A  Jew 
hath  not  the  power  of  the  sword — so  saith  the  Chazzan.  I,  then, 
mean  to  have  full  power  of  usury  and  of  wealth,  and  for  this  very 
reason,  indeed,  that  I  am  a  Jew.” 

Now  there  was  something  in  the  answer  which,  strangely  enough, 
did  not  wholly  displeasure  Simon  of  Cyrene.  Simon  pondered  a 
little  on  this  thing.  Then  quoth  he,  “Dost  thou  not  know  that  the 
Sopherim  declare  ‘The  usurer  biteth  a  piece  off  from  a  man,  for 
he  takes  from  him  that  which  he  hath  not  given  him’?” 

“Then,  at  least,  0  Father,  I  will  be  a  merchant.  Grant  me  that, 
and  let  me  go  back  to  my  caravan.” 

“Knowest  thou  not,  0  red-head  son,  that  the  Sopherim  declare, 
‘Wisdom  is  not  beyond  the  sea’ — that  is,  that  it  is  not  to  be  found 
among  traders  or  among  merchants,  but  only  among  scholars?” 

“Let  my  brother,  Alexander,  be  a  scholar,  if  he  will,”  replied 
Rufus  testily. — “And  title  three  is  ‘The  Last  Gate.’  It  treateth 
of  the  laws  of  commerce  and  co-partnership,  of  buying  and  selling, 
of  the  law  of  inheritance  and  the  right  of  succession.  Tell  me,  O 
my  Father,  was  not  I  born  before  my  brother,  Alexander  ?  ’ ’ 

“Nay,  my  son,”  quoth  Simon,  shaking  his  head  in  fondest 
reminiscence,  “but  thy  brother  was  born  before  thee.  A  thread  was 
placed  about  his  wrist,  for  that  we  might  not  later  be  mistaken. 9  ’ 

Then  said  Rufus,  with  an  air  of  great  justice:  “I  believe  that  all 
inheritances  should  be  divided  among  brothers  evenly.  Why  should  a 
man  have  a  double  portion  of  his  father’s  estate,  only  for  this  that 
first  he  did  enter  the  world  ?  Is  there  merit  in  his  doing  so  ?  Answer 
me,  my  Father.  Nay,  there  is  not  any  merit  therein  at  all. — And 
the  fourth  of  the  titles  is  ‘The  Sanhedrim.’  The  fifth  is  ‘Stripes.’ 
‘Oaths’  is  the  sixth.  The  seventh  is  ‘Evidences.’  The  remaining 


DIVINE  ASSISTANCE 


155 


three  are  ‘The  Fathers,’  ‘Punishment’  and — I  believe — ‘Idolatry’.” 

‘  ‘  What  is  the  name  of  the  Massikha  on  ‘  Idolatry  ’  ?  ” 

‘  ‘  I  know  not.  ’  ’ 

“Alexander.” 

“Abodah  Sarah.” 

“Give  me  the  first  of  the  Mishnayoth  that  come  in  Abodah 
Sarah.” 

“Three  days  before  the  feasts  of  idolaters  it  is  not  permitted  to 
transact  business  with  them,  to  lend  to  them,  or  to  borrow  from  them, 
either  to  make  a  loan  of  money  to  them  or  to  borrow  money  from 
them,  to  repay  them  or  even  to  take  payment  from  them.  ’  ’ 

Then  went  Alexander,  he  of  the  Greekish  countenance  and  the 
thoughtful  ways,  into  a  long,  rambling  Gemara  on  the  simple,  straight¬ 
forward  Mishna.  But  Rufus,  he  of  the  Roman  features  and  the 
reddish  head,  drifted  back  to  his  straining  camels  and  thrice  profitable 
barterings.  And  his  caravan  of  clay  was  miles  and  miles  into  the 
imaginary  desert  which  ran  before  his  father’s  doorway,  or  ere 
the  studious  Alexander  had  finished  the  first  Gemara  on  Idols. 

“And  you,  the  dear  children  of  my  heart,”  said  then  Simon  of 
Cyrene,  “will  ye  not  promise  me,  both  of  you,  that  never,  so  long 
as  life  shall  bubble  in  your  veins,  will  ye  stoop  to  commit  idolatry?” 

“I  promise,”  said  stoutly  Alexander.  “And  I  will  keep  from 
idolatry  by  a  thorough  knowledge  of  the  Law.  I  will  hedge  me 
about,  even  as  Parush  in  Jerusalem  is  hedged  about,  with  the  high 
protection  of  both  the  first  and  second  Law.  But  the  greater  of  these 
is  the  second,  for  it  stands  not  written.” 

“And  I,”  said  Rufus,  a  camel  in  his  hand,  “I  will  keep  my 
thoughts  too  busy  with  my  caravans  and  my  profits  for  to  let  into 
my  mind  one  single  little  thought  about  idolatry.  I  will  worship 
money:  there  shall  be  for  me  therefore  no  graven  image  possible.” 
“And  I,”  said  Alexander,  more  earnestly  still,  “I  will  worship  the 
Law.  If  thou  shalt  worship  caravans,  then  I  will  worship  the  Law.  ’  ’ 

And  Simon  marveled  that  he  could  not  find  it  in  his  heart  to 
rebuke  any  further  the  little  Rufus.  As  for  Alexander,  he  doted  on 
him,  and  marveled  not  that  he  could  not  anywise  rebuke  him. 

So  he  said  to  each  of  his  children,  only:  “My  children,  do  ye 
love  me?” 

They  said,  “We  do  love  thee,  Father.  And  if  ever  a  fierce  mis¬ 
fortune  should  come  upon  thee,  we  could  not  endure  it,  but  should 
surely  die.” 

Oh  delicious  words  of  tenderness !  And  happy,  happy  hours  spent 
with  Leah  and  the  little  children !  Simon  never  forgot  those  moments, 


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SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


the  gigantic  Simon  of  Cyrene,  but  kept  them  treasured  in  his  ever- 
busy  heart,  in  fact  recalled  them  long  years  afterward,  when  life 
was  such  a  heavy  burden,  such  an  unspeakable  contamination,  as  the 
Samson-Solomon  of  old  could  never  have  conceived  even  in  his  most 
prophetic  dreams. 

But  hear  now  Rufus,  whose  hands  are  never  at  rest,  and  whose 
tongue  is  like  the  clacking  of  a  tread-mill,  as  he  saith  in  a  certain 
hour:  * ‘ Come,  Daddy!  Come,  thou  and  Alexander!  We  have  not 
yet  played  together  on  this  day.” 

But  Amahnah,  entering  at  the  precise  moment,  laid  heavy  charge 
against  a  son  of  the  house.  Rufus,  as  it  appeared,  had  scored  and 
scissored  a  volume  of  the  Scripture  (no  less  crime  at  all  than  that) 
into  strips  of  striding  camels,  which,  then,  he  had  fastened  with  acacia- 
juice  to  the  back  wall  of  the  house.  Should  he  not  indeed  be 
punished  with  stripes? 

There  was  a  cloud  on  Simon’s  brow,  dull  thunder  in  his  voice. 

‘ 1  The  Scripture !  The  Law,  the  Prophets  ?  Hast  thou — my  Son — 
The  rod !  Reach  it  me,  Amahnah !  ’  ’ 

But  the  elder  brother,  running  quickly  up,  cast  himself  on  his 
knees.  “0  Father  dear,  not  on  him,  for  he  is  weaker  by  far  than  I. 
But  I  am  the  elder,  and  also  much  the  stronger,  and  the  broader  and 
the  taller  and  the  more  enduring,  and  I  will  gladly  take  the  rod 
unto  my  own  back,  and  Rufus  shall  be  ashamed  that  I  am  being 
punished  for  him,  and  will  no  more  make  an  injury  to  the  Prophets. 
And  I  will  gladly  do  this  thing  for  Rufus,  because  I  love  my  brother 
so  dearly.” 

Saith  Simon,  “Is  that  in  accordance  with  the  Law?” 

“Nay,”  said  Alexander.  “It  is  not  in  accordance  with  the  Law. 
But  I  love  my  brother,  and  fain  would  bear  his  stripes  for  him.” 

Simon  strook  him  with  the  rod  gently,  and  Rufus  cried  out  and 
came  unto  his  brother  and  unto  his  father,  and  the  three  were 
reconciled. 

“Promise  me,  my  children,”  commanded  the  father,  “that  ye  will 
never  be  unkind  hereafter,  either  each  to  each  or  yet  unto  any  men 
at  all  upon  this  earth — unless  indeed  it  be  some  enemy  of  the  Land — 
in  especial  the  Romans.  ’  ’ 

And  the  children  promised,  and  straightway  (being  children) 
did  forget.  But  the  father,  ere  he  went  back  into  the  sheepfields, 
thought  long  on  many  things  which  he  knew  he  was  nowise  able  to 
find  in  the  Law. 

And  Simon  went  into  the  sheepfields  which  lie  round  Migdal 
Eder,  singing  (from  the  Scriptures)  as  he  went: 


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157 


“  Blessed  thou  art,  and  it  shall  be  well  with  thee. 

Thy  wife  in  the  chambers  of  thy  house,  shall  be  as  the 
fruitful  vine; 

Thy  children  round  about  thy  table,  as  the  plants  of  the 
olive. 

Behold,  even  thus  shall  be  blessed 

The  man  that  f eareth  the  Lord ; 

The  Lord  shall  bless  thee  out  of  Zion, 

And  thou  shalt  see  the  good  of  Jerusalem  all  the  days  of 
thy  life. 

And  thou  shalt  see  thy  children’s  children. 

Peace  be  upon  Israel.” 

But  hardly  had  he  sung  this  when  a  Roman  soldier,  darting  round 
a  rock,  stood  up  before  him,  commanding:  “Give  me  all  thou  hast. 
Else  thou  shalt  indeed  have  peace.” 

And  when  the  Jew  gave  not,  but  cursed,  then  smote  him  the 
soldier  upon  his  right  cheek.  And  Simon  smote  back,  and  the  man 
lay  as  dead. 

And  when  the  Jew  knelt  beside  him,  the  man  whispered:  “Oh 
woe  is  my  wife  and  child ! ’  9  And  the  life  went  out  of  him. 

Uprose  a  tumult  in  Simon’s  heart.  He  said,  “I  might  have  re¬ 
strained  this  man,  and  not  have  killed  him  either,  albeit  he  was  a 
Roman.  Now  his  family  shall  suffer,  and  I  have  the  mark  of  Cain.” 

But  he  went  and  found  a  secret  place.  And  there  he  buried  the 
soldier.  He  thought,  “In  the  night  the  wolves  will  come  and  the 
jackals,  and  all  the  vultures  that  wing  the  air,  and  these  will  devour 
the  man  that  not  one  jot  shall  be  left  to  tell  my  tale.” 

As  he  neared  the  sheepfields,  he  heard  the  little  bells  upon  the 
sheep,  and  smelt  the  new-cropped  grasses,  and  heard  again  the  sweet 
words  of  Ohab:  “Sheep,  sheep,  sheep!  She-e-e-e-p!  Sheep,  sheep!” 
And  the  lambs  bleated,  and  Simon  knew  that  they  loved  the  gentle 
shepherd. 

And  he  went  on  into  the  sheepfields,  and  both  Gheburah  and 
Ohab  came  unto  him,  crying:  “The  Christ!  Messiah!  Again  the 
Christ!” 

Simon  looked  from  one  to  the  other,  saying :  * 1  Tell  me.  How  say 
ye  both  together  (and  with  nothing  else)  ‘the  Christ,  again  the 
Christ  ’  ?  ” 

“He  hath  come  once  more  among  us,”  saith  Ohab.  “Gheburah, 
here,  who  hath  long  been  away  from  us,  hath  seen  Him.  He  will 
tell  thee.  Is  it  not  so,  Gheburah?  Hast  thou  not  seen  Him  with 
thine  eyes?” 

Simon  looked  upon  Gheburah,  and  beheld  the  man  transfigured. 
And  Gheburah  bowed  his  head  and  answered,  softly:  “The  Lord 


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SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


hath  blessed  me.  I  have  seen  Him  times  and  times  again.’ ’  Simon 
therefore  took  from  the  ground  a  cudgel,  saying:  “Let  this  be 
Rome!”  He  brake  it  easily  with  his  hands.  Then  took  a  massive 
rock.  And  he  smote  it  with  his  fist,  that  the  pieces  flew  in  every 
way.  “That  too  is  Rome,”  said  he. 

But  Gheburah  softly  rebuked  him:  “Listen,  for  thou  knowest 
not  my  words,  what  they  shall  be.  Listen,  for  the  truth  is  not  of 
men,  but  God. 

“Thou  knowest  that  lately  I  brought  the  flocks  up  to  the  Temple 
for  the  sacrifices.  Being  in  Jerusalem,  I  went  into  Galilee,  and 
Nazareth — for  in  that  city  my  sister  abideth  with  her  husband. 

“In  that  place,  I  saw  one  Jesus.  I  know  Him  for  the  Child  to 
the  which  we  were  led  by  the  star. 

“But  Jesus  went  into  a  mountain,  and  when  He  was  set,  He 
preached  to  a  multitude,  and  us  among  the  number.  But  behold! 
the  preacher  rebuked  those  very  things  on  which  the  world  sets  highest 
values.  ‘Lowlymindedness.  That,’  said  He,  ‘is  blessed;  also  meek¬ 
ness  and  deep  sorrow,  the  hungering  and  the  thirsting  for  righteous¬ 
ness,  mercy  and  purity  and  the  making  of  peace  as  between  all 
enemies!’  ” 

“Peace!”  laughed  Simon.  “Said  He  so?  But  first,  no  doubt, 
a  great  sword  against  the  Romans.” 

“And  he  declared  unto  His  disciples,”  went  on  the  elder  of  the 
shepherds,  “  ‘Ye  are  the  light  of  the  world.  A  city  that  is  set  on 
a  hill  cannot  be  hid.  Neither  do  men  light  a  candle,  and  put  it  under 
a  bushel,  but  on  a  candlestick;  and  it  giveth  light  unto  all  that  are 
in  the  house.  Let  your  light  so  shine  before  men,  that  they  may  see 
your  good  works,  and  glorify  your  Father  which  is  in  heaven.’  ” 

“So  doth  Parush.  It  is  well  enough,  Gheburah.  Say  on.” 

‘  ‘  ‘  Think  not  that  I  am  come  to  destroy  the  law,  or  the  prophets : 
I  am  not  come  to  destroy,  but  to  fulfil.’  ” 

“Well  said  again,”  declared  the  Cyrenian.  “Blessed  be  the  Law. 
And  blessed  be  all  the  teachers  of  the  Law.  Jesus  is  a  teacher  of 
the  Law,  likewise  Parush.  Blessed  be  they  twain.  Say  on.” 

“  ‘Ye  have  heard,’  so  quoth  Jesus,  ‘that  it  hath  been  said,  Thou 
shalt  love  thy  neighbor  and  hate  thine  enemy.  But  I  say  unto  you, 
Love  your  enemies,  bless  them  that  curse  you,  do  good  to  them  that 
hate  you,  and  pray  for  them  which  despitefully  use  you,  and  perse¬ 
cute  you.’  ” 

Now  it  seemed  to  Simon  as  if,  on  a  sudden,  a  great  window  had 
been  thrown  open,  a  window  in  the  sky,  wherethrough  he  beheld  a 


DIVINE  ASSISTANCE 


159 


heavenly  glory.  Then  he  remembered  the  man  he  had  lately  killed. 
He  also  remembered  Trivialis.  Therefore  he  was  silent. 

“  ‘Ye  have  heard,’  ”  went  on  Gheburah,  still  in  the  words  of  Jesus, 
“  ‘that  it  hath  been  said,  An  eye  for  an  eye,  and  a  tooth  for  a  tooth. 
But  I  say  unto  you,  That  ye  resist  not  evil:  but  whosoever  shall 
smite  thee  on  thy  right  cheek,  turn  to  him  the  other  also.’  ” 

Now  Ivveleth  thought  that  he  saw  at  a  little  distance  a  number 
of  wolves  approaching.  So  he  sent  off  hirelings  at  a  run  to  go  around 
and  about  in  the  way  of  the  wilderness  of  Judea,  thence  to  fetch  a 
farther  compass  and  so  become  as  a  protection  unto  the  sheep.  But 
Gheburah  took  his  little  pipe  out,  and  played  softly.  And  all  the 
sheep  were  running  back  or  ere  the  men  could  come  up  anigh  unto 
them. 

“What  next  said  Jesus?”  cried  out  Simon.  “I  would  have  a 
certain  sign — a  miracle  whereby  I  might  surely  believe.” 

“What  Jesus  next  said,  I  do  not  remember,”  saith  Gheburah. 
“But,  on  many  occasions  (for  I  staid  long  in  Galilee,  then  followed 
Jesus  about)  He  gave  to  the  people  signs  and  wonders  that  all  might 
know  to  a  certainty  He  was  Shiloh  that  was  come.  And  first  there 
was  water,  which  He  made  into  wine.  That  was  at  Cana.” 

“Water — into  wine?  But  this  the  magi  also  have  done.  What 
else  ?  ’  ’ 

“Yet  again,  with  a  few  little  fishes  and  only  seven  loaves  of  bread, 
He  fed  to  the  full  a  hungry  multitude  of  five  thousand.  Yet  again 
He  stilled  a  tempest,  and  again  walked  on  the  fluctuating  sea  as  on  a 
floor  of  stone.  And  He  healed,  from  time  to  time,  all  manner  of 
sickness:  fever,  palsy,  leprosy,  inveterate  weakness,  an  issue  of  the 
blood  of  twelve  years’  standing,  dropsy,  blindness,  deafness  and 
dumbness — all  these.  ’  ’ 

‘  ‘  But  so  have  each  and  all  the  prophets  done !  yea  and  Moses  also. 
Gave  He  not  a  sign  from  heaven  ?  ’  ’ 

“The  daughter  of  the  ruler  of  a  synagogue  was  dead.  Jesus  said 
unto  the  people  that  wept  and  wailed,  ‘The  damsel  is  not  dead,  but 
sleepeth.’  And  they  laughed  Him  to  scorn.  But  when  He  had  put 
them  all  out,  He  taketh  the  father  and  the  mother  of  the  damsel,  and 
them  that  were  with  Him,  and  entereth  in  where  the  damsel  was 
lying.  And  He  took  the  damsel  by  the  hand,  and  said  unto  her, 
Talitha  cumi.  And  straightway  the  damsel  arose,  and  walked.” 

Simon  got  up  and  went  round  a  lofty  rock  which  stood  behind 
Gheburah.  There  he  outstretched  his  arms  to  the  right  and  to  the 
left,  as  though  in  prayer.  He  groaneth,  “0  Father,  I  am  sorely 
afeard  of  idolatry,  either  in  wood  or  stone  or  word  or  beast,  or  any 


160 


SIMON  OF  GYRENE 


kind  of  flesh  whatever.  Show  me  therefore,  if  thou  knowest  my  soul, 
a  sign,  an  indisputable  sign,  from  heaven/’ 

Gheburah,  thereupon,  hearing  Simon,  calleth  unto  him:  “ Jesus 
himself,  He  is  the  surest  sign,  He  and  His  sayings.  Dost  thou  not 
know  Him,  0  Samson-Simon  of  Cyrene,  for  a  sign  of  truth,  or  ere 
thy  fleshly  eyes  have  gazed  upon  His  loveliness,  or  thine  ears  have 
hung  upon  the  wonders  of  His  lips  ?  ’  ’ 

But  Simon,  returning  from  the  rock,  said  again :  ‘  1  I  would  have 
a  sign.  Then  would  I  go  to  the  place  of  His  speaking,  and,  if  He 
gave  me  yet  another  sign,  a  sign  from  heaven —  ’  ’ 

But  Gheburah  of  Bethlehem  grew  wroth  (for  his  ancient  use  and 
management  were  strong  upon  him)  and  brake  in  upon  the  man. 
“Thou  sayest  thou  wouldst  have  a  sign  from  heaven,  a  celestial 
phenomenon  of  glory,  a  wonder  of  all  wonders  that  the  world  might 
behold  and  none  be  able  to  dispute.  But  Jesus  himself  hath  spoken, 
and  hearken  now  what  He  saith. 

“When  the  Pharisees  and  the  Sadducees  had  asked  Him  for 
celestial  signs,  then  said  He  unto  them,  ‘When  it  is  evening,  ye  say, 
It  will  be  fair  weather,  for  the  sky  is  red.  And  in  the  morning,  It 
will  be  foul  weather  today,  for  the  sky  is  red  and  lowering.  0  ye 
hypocrites,  ye  can  discern  the  face  of  the  sky ;  but  can  ye  not  discern 
the  signs  of  the  times?  A  wicked  and  adulterous  generation  seeketh 
after  a  sign;  and  there  shall  no  sign  be  given  unto  it,  but  the  sign 
of  the  prophet  Jonas.’  ” 

And  Simon  grew  each  day  the  less  a  follower  of  the  Sadducees, 
and  the  more  inclined  to  Parush.  There  was  also  in  his  heart  a 
waxing  eagerness  for  knowledge,  the  which  passion  he  had  had  from 
the  moment  when  he  first  arrived  back  into  the  Land  of  the  Lord, 
after  that  season  of  enslavement  on  the  Babylonia.  Therefore  thought 
he,  on  a  day:  “I  yearn  too  much  for  a  deeper  knowledge  of  the 
Law,  which,  of  a  truth,  I  never  can  acquire  as  a  simple  shepherd  in  the 
fields  round  Migdal  Eder,  or  as  one  who  sitteth  from  time  to  time 
in  the  synagogue  at  Bethlehem.”  So  he  said  to  Amahnah,  which  is 
also  Leah  and  Enooth:  “Come,  let  us  go  forth  unto  Jerusalem  for 
to  dwell  there,  that,  in  that  place,  I  may  learn  the  Law  more  fully.” 

‘  ‘  From  whom,  ’  ’  asked  she,  ‘  ‘  wilt  thou  learn  ?  From  Parush  ? — for 
I  do  greatly  fear  that  man.” 

He  said,  “Parush  is  a  Pharisee  of  Pharisees,  and  there  is  none 
that  is  like  unto  him  in  all  the  perplexities  of  the  Law.  And  that 
Law,  it  will  keep  us  from  idolatry,  and  from  all  comminglings  with 
Gentiles.  ’  ’ 

Amahnah  wept. 


DIVINE  ASSISTANCE 


161 


But  Simon  was  inexorable,  so  that  Amahnah  at  length  said, 
“Whither  thou  goest — 77 

Therefore  journeyed  they  twain  and  the  children  unto  Jerusalem 
for  to  dwell  there,  that  Simon  might  become  proficient  in  the  Law, 
learning  at  the  feet  of  the  Pharisee  of  Pharisees,  even  the  trumpeting, 
purse-proud,  pore-blind  Parush. 

There  cometh,  on  a  day,  to  Simon,  one  that  was  a  very  holy  man. 
He  had  in  his  hand  a  myrtle  branch,  and  his  face  was  like  the  face  of 
Zechariah  and  of  him  that  came  before  him  and  of  him  that  was 
after  him.  He  saith  in  a  dead,  sweet  tone:  “Thou  hast  Amahnah 
with  thee  now,  but  yet  art  thou  become  a  stupid  formalist,  and  thou 
art  also  on  each  day  the  more  race-ridden  and  the  less  inclined  to  be 
as  a  light  to  the  Gentiles.  Fly,  therefore,  0  thou  that  mightest  have 
been  as  a  sacred  priest  unto  all  nations.  Fly  from  the  unholy  house 
of  Parush/ 7 

Simon  saith  unto  him,  “Thou  railest  as  if  my  teacher  were  an 
idolater. 7  7 

Saith  Jehovah- Jireh  (for  such  was  his  name)  “Whether  is  the 
worse,  To  worship  a  stone  or  to  worship  a  form?” 

And  at  this  the  aforetime  priest  did  tear  his  garments,  and  rage 
mightily.  He  crieth,  “What  have  I  to  do  with  thee,  0  thou  whose 
very  name  doth  mean  ‘Jehovah  will  see  to  it’?  For  behold  the  Lord 
will  ‘see  to  it7  indeed.  He  will  come  in  the  flesh,  and  a  sword  shall 
be  in  His  hand,  and  He  will  smite  the  heathen  mightily,  and  Jerusa¬ 
lem  shall  be  the  center  of  all  the  world  both  for  learning  and  for 
wealth,  and  for  all  magnificence  and  all  power,  both  of  this  world 
and  the  next. 7  7 

But  Jehovah- Jireh  answered  and  saith  unto  him,  “Blessed  is  He 
that  shall  come  in  the  name  of  Adonai.  But  He  shall  have  no  sword 
in  His  hand.  Behold  thy  King,  0  Priest  that  hath  been  in  a  sombre 
garment.  He  that  will  save  His  peoples  from  their  sins  approacheth, 
lowly  and  riding  upon  an  ass ;  even  upon  a  colt  the  foal  of  an  ass. — 
And  I  said  unto  them,  If  ye  think  good,  give  me  my  hire ; 
and  if  not,  forbear.  So  they  weighed  for  my  hire  thirty  pieces  of 
silver.  And  the  Lord  said  unto  me,  Cast  it  unto  the  potter,  the 
goodly  price  that  I  was  prised  at  of  them. — And  at  length  I  will 
pour  upon  the  rejected  priest,  even  Simon  of  Cyrene,  the  spirit  of 
grace  and  of  supplication.  He  shall  look  upon  me  and  see  me  when 
I  am  pierced.  And  he  shall  look  upon  me  even  once  again,  and  so 
shall  be  satisfied.77 

Then  cursed  Simon,  and  saith  to  the  prophet:  “He  that  is  Lord 
of  Hosts  shall  not  be  pierced.  In  the  stead  thereof,  He  will  pierce 

li 


162 


SIMON  OF  GYRENE 


the  Nations.  And  He  shall  not  come  upon  an  humble  ass,  but  upon  a 
mighty  horse  of  war.  Death  and  destruction  shall  blow  from  both 
the  nostrils  of  that  horse.  Thou  art  fool  and  liar  which  pretendest 
to  be  a  prophet  and  art  none.” 

He  cast  dust  upon  the  holy  man,  and  beat  him,  and  set  his  fingers 
in  his  own  ears,  and  ran  away,  even  as  Jehovah- Jir eh  calleth  after 
him:  “The  Lord  will  see  to  it  indeed.  But  in  sin  and  in  sorrow, 
in  hunger  and  in  thirst,  in  fear  and  torture  and  doubt,  the  whole  of 
thy  lingering  days  shalt  thou  be  priest  unto  Him  that  cometh  in  the 
name  of  Adonai. 

“And,  in  the  end,  all  the  nations  of  the  earth  (and  for  this, 
that  thou  art  His  priest)  shall  be  gathered  together  into  one  single 
place  against  thee.  And  thou  shalt  see  Messias  once  more,  accom¬ 
panied  by  His  Bride,  the  Church,  and  they  shall  come  in  clouds  of 
glory,  and  the  miracle  of  all  miracles  shall  have  been  accomplished.” 

Simon  heard,  and,  “in  the  end,”  he  did  remember. 

But,  at  the  present  time,  Simon  did  run  straight  into  the  ship- 
captain,  Ardelio,  whose  name,  by  interpretation,  meant  Busybody,  a 
Roman  and  very  hard,  him  whom  Simon  had  taken  into  hire  at 
Hebron  when  the  priest  was  still  the  husband  of  that  harlot,  slattern, 
and  idolatress,  even  Abaddone. 

The  captain  said  to  Simon,  “I  am  on  the  traces  of  Trivialis,  but 
as  yet  have  not  found  him.” 

Simon  said,  “A  curse  be  upon  him  that  hath  just  roiled  me.  Hast 
thou  sought  diligently  ?  ’  ’ 

Ardelio:  “Yea,  I  have  sought  with  great  diligence.” 

Then  asked  Simon  of  himself,  “What  shall  I  do?”  For  he 
remembered  those  things  which  Gheburah  had  lately  told  him  in  the 
sheepfold,  as  concerning  the  gentle  teachings  of  the  Nazarene.  All  at 
once  Simon  answered  in  his  heart,  “This  Trivialis  is  a  Gentile,  and 
knoweth  not  the  Law.  Is  it  fitting  that  I,  a  child  of  Abraham  and 
a  pupil  of  Parush,  should  have  mercy  at  all  on  him?  What  would 
Parush  say?  Trivialis  is  not  a  Jew.  By  the  gold  that  is  on  the 
Temple,  I  will  have  no  mercy  upon  him  at  all.  ” 

He  saith,  therefore,  to  the  captain :  ‘  ‘  Here  is  money.  Go  on 

further,  and,  when  thou  hast  in  thy  searchings  found  the  fellow  I 
seek,  as  surely  thou  wilt  do,  bring  me  tidings  again.  Then  will  I  also 
go  unto  him.” 

Ardelio  went  his  way. 

Now  it  was  always  esteemed  full  necessary  that  any  that  would 
be  either  a  student  or  a  teacher  of  the  Law  should  learn  and  practice 
some  or  another  handicraft.  For  this  it  was  that  Parush,  though 


DIVINE  ASSISTANCE 


163 


a  man  of  great  riches,  was  nevertheless  a  potter  and  dwelt  in  the 
Street  of  the  Potters,  and  all  day  long,  in  the  street  before  his  shop, 
did  spatter  and  mold  the  clay  before  him  till  it  was  shapen.  For  this 
good  reason  also,  Simon  of  Cyrene  settled  in  the  Dyers’  Street,  which 
was  next  to  the  Street  of  the  Potters.  And  he  became  a  dyer.  And 
all  day  long  he  worked  at  the  window  of  his  shop,  with  great  green, 
red,  bine  and  yellow  threads,  passed  through  the  lobes  of  his  ears, 
that  all  who  went  before  his  shop  might  know  the  man  to  be  a  dyer. 

And  his  house  in  the  Street  of  the  Dyers,  and  the  house  of  Parush 
in  the  Potters’  Street,  were  adjacent  in  their  rearward  courts,  each 
unto  each. 

And  Simon  passed  over  into  Parush  *s  house,  on  every  evening 
excepting  only  the  evening  of  the  Sabbath,  and,  at  the  feet  of  Parush, 
learned  the  second  Law.  With  a  strange,  delirious  joy  learned  he, 
at  the  feet  of  Parush,  the  Pharisee  of  Pharisees. 

Now  there  were  in  Jerusalem  ten  plain  kinds  of  Pharisees.  First 
were  the  Nifki,  the  “Dashers,”  or  the  “Bandylegged.”  These  would 
scarcely  lift  their  feet  in  walking,  but  dash  them  against  the  cobble¬ 
stones,  so  that  people  might  believe  the  dashers  were  absorbed  in 
holy  meditation.  And  the  second  were  the  “Mortars,”  which  wore 
a  cap  about  their  eyes,  that  they  might  not  see  the  common  people, 
or  anywise  suffer  the  profundity  of  their  holy  meditations  to  be 
disturbed  by  them.  The  third  were  the  “Bleeders”;  they  had  thorns 
in  their  garments  all  round  about  the  ankles,  that  the  ankles  might 
be  pricked  thereby,  and  a  thorn  be  ever  in  the  flesh  of  the  ankles. 
Then  came  the  “Cryers,”  who  went  about  the  streets  and  alleys 
shouting,  “Let  me  know  my  duty,  and  I  will  do  it.”  The  fifth  were 
the  “ Almsgivers, ”  or  “Trumpeters.”  These  had  a  trumpet  sounded 
in  the  streets,  or  ere  they  conferred  any  alms.  The  sixth  were  the 
‘  ‘  Stumblers,  ’  ’  they  who,  as  they  went  abroad,  kept  tightly  shut  their 
eyes,  to  this  end  that  they  might  behold  no  women.  And  the  seventh 
were  the  “Immovables.”  These  stood  like  statues  in  the  market 
places,  many  long,  long  sacred  hours  together,  at  uninterruptible,  yea 
imperturbable,  prayers.  Then  the  “Medinkia, ”  or  “Pestles,”  who 
went  bent  double  like  the  handle  of  a  pestle.  The  ninth  were  the 
“Shikmi,”  or  “Strong  of  Shoulder.”  They  went  with  a  shoulder 
on  high,  as  if  the  mighty  burden  of  the  Law  were  resting  on  it.  And 
last  were  the  “Whited  Sepulchres,”  the  “Dyed  Pharisees,”  they 
that  hungered  after  wddows  ’  houses,  and  were  lecherous  withal. 

Parush,  alone,  was  of  these  kinds  all  ten.  For  he  would  not  lift 
his  feet  in  walking ;  and,  having  eyes,  he  saw  not ;  he  kept  a  deep  thorn 
in  the  ankle’s  flesh;  he  asked  his  duty  in  the  market  places  and  the 


164 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


streets;  gave  alms  to  the  blare  of  a  trumpet;  was  blindly  a  leader 
of  the  blind;  prayed  in  the  sight  of  men  for  hours  as  immovably  as 
granite;  did  often  go  around  bent  like  the  handle  of  an  enormous 
pestle;  or  kept  a  shoulder  high  to  show  that  the  burden  of  the  Law 
was  resting  on  it;  and,  most  of  all,  was  lecherous  and  fond  of  the 
houses  of  the  poor. 

And  Simon  of  Cyrene  was  the  worshipful  pupil  of  Parush,  though 
he  followed  not  the  master  in  all  things. 

And  often  they  twain  ascended  to  the  house-top  of  Parush,  that, 
in  that  place,  by  the  cool  of  the  evening,  the  Master  might  instruct 
his  pupil  in  the  Law. 

And  Parush  sat  upon  a  lofty  chair,  but  Simon  at  his  feet  on  the 
floor  of  the  house-top.  And  Simon  clasped  his  mighty  hands  together, 
and  hung  them  over  Parush ’s  knees,  nor  did  he  ever  take  his  eyes 
from  the  lips  of  Parush.  And  Parush  sate  with  his  eyes  tight  closed, 
for  this,  that  the  tops  of  all  the  houses  in  Jerusalem  were  fully 
bridged  together,  and,  in  the  cool  of  the  evening,  much  of  the  people 
of  the  city  passed  by  the  way  of  the  roofs  and  not  of  the  streets,  and 
always  there  were  many  women  going  to  and  fro,  in  the  midst  of  the 
multitude,  from  house-top  to  house-top.  And  Parush  feared  (as  he 
said)  that  he  might  behold  these  women,  were  his  eyes  but  open, 
and  so  be  defiled. 

He  said  to  Simon  (on  a  certain  evening)  “How  many  are  the 
ways  of  going  about  Jerusalem  ?” 

“Three.  By  the  house-tops,  by  the  streets,  by  the  subterranean 
passages  which  do  underly  the  city.  ’  ’ 

“It  is  true.  So  also  are  the  ways  of  the  learning  of  the  Law. 
There  is  the  superficial  way — the  learning  accomplished  in  the  syna¬ 
gogues,  which  is  good  enough  for  them  that  are  mostly  ignorant  and 
can  never  be  learned.  Next  is  a  deeper  method — that  of  learning  in 
an  academy,  a  Beth  ha  Midrash.  Then  last  is  the  deepest  way  of 
all,  whereby  the  pupil  taketh  a  private  teacher,  and  learneth  the 
doctrines  of  eternity  at  his  sacred  feet. — Art  thou  ready  for  another 
lesson,  O  my  son?” 

“Yea,  my  father.  Yea,  my  prince  of  light  and  learning.  Yea, 
my  all.” 

“Let  us,  then,  begin.  First  I  will  ask  thee,  What  is  the  second 
seder  of  the  oral  law?” 

“Moed  [Festivals],  0  Father,  0  Happy  Prince.” 

“It  is  true.  And  what  are  the  titles  of  the  Moed ? ’ ’ 

“Sabbath,  Erubhin,  Rosh  Hashana,  Yuma,  Shekalim,  Sukkah, 
Megillah,  Taanith,  Pesachim,  Betzah,  Iiagigah,  and  Moed  Katem.” 


DIVINE  ASSISTANCE 


165 


‘  ‘  Thou  hast  remembered.  Thou  are  like  a  cemented  cistern,  which 
loses  not  a  drop  of  water.  ’  ’ 

“I  thank  thee,  0  my  Prince  and  Lord.” 

“And  now  we  do  begin  the  learning  of  the  ‘ Sabbath.’  But  first 
I  would  have  thee  remember  the  fourth  commandment  of  the  deca¬ 
logue,  for  that  is  the  corner  stone — let  us  rather  say  ‘ foundation’ — of 
the  Massikha  called  ‘Sabbath.’  ‘Remember  the  Sabbath  Day  to 
keep  it  holy.  Six  days  shalt  thou  labor,  and  do  all  thy  work ;  but  the 
seventh  day  is  the  Sabbath  unto  the  Lord  thy  God;  in  it  thou  shalt 
not  do  any  work,  thou,  nor  thy  son,  nor  thy  daughter,  thy  manservant, 
nor  thy  maidservant,  nor  thy  cattle,  nor  the  stranger  that  is  within 
thy  gates :  for  in  six  days  the  Lord  made  heaven  and  earth,  the  sea, 
and  all  that  in  them  is,  and  rested  on  the  seventh  day ;  wherefore  the 
Lord  blessed  the  Sabbath  day  and  hallowed  it.’  My  son,  0  my  son, 
doth  it  not  appear  simple,  the  fourth  commandment  of  the  Law?” 

“It  doth,”  said  Simon. 

“Thou  art  greatly  in  error.  For  who  among  men  could  keep  a 
law  so  general?  Need  we  not  an  endless  multitude  of  minor  laws 
whereby  we  shall  be  enabled  to  obey  this  main  one  ?  It  is  true.  There 
must  be  many  little  mishnayoth,  and  on  each  of  the  mishnayoth  a 
full  and  exact  gemara.” 

Then  said  Simon  of  Gyrene,  suddenly  and  before  he  had  had 
time  to  catch  his  tongue :  “A  certain  Rabbi  J esus  declareth  we  make 
the  Law  a  burden  to  ourselves,  and,  fearing  idolatry,  do  make  an 
idol  of  our  very  forms  of  law,  the  which,  instead  of  idols,  we  wor¬ 
ship.” 

The  face  of  the  Rabbi  Parush  was  drawn  in  a  convulsion  of  anger, 
and  the  mouth  for  a  time  spake  not  for  the  bitterness  therein.  Then : 
“Wilt  thou,  Raca,  be  accursed?” 

Simon  looked  down  quickly,  trembled  as  were  he  a  child.  But 
he  answered,  “Thy  pardon,  Lord.  I  would  not  have  interrupted. 
I  would  not —  Yet  all  the  world— see— they — the— world — they  speak 
— they  are  talking  of  Jesus.” 

“Fools!  Wilt  thou  become  as  one  of  them?  Wilt  thou  also  be 
accursed,  outcast,  rejected  by  him  who  is  thy  teacher?” 

He  also  said:  “Knowest  thou  not  what  Jesus  hath  declared  as 
concerning  the  very  Temple?  ‘I  will  destroy  this  temple  that  is 
made  with  hands,  and  in  three  days  I  will  build  another  made  without 
hands/  He  is  an  impostor.” 

Simon:  “But  they  who  follow  Him  declare  He  meaneth,  He  will 
be  crucified,  and  three  days  thereafter,  arise  from  the  dead.” 

But  Parush  answered  and  said  unto  him,  “Which  is  the  more 


166 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


impossible?  He  meaneth  merely  that,  if  He  can,  He  will  instigate 
the  multitude  to  tear  our  holy  Temple  down.  After  that  He  will  not 
rebuild  it.  He  is  a  Jew,  this  Jesus,  but  more  He  is  like  a  hateful 
Gentile.  ’  ’ 

Simon :  *  ‘  May  all  of  them  be  accursed  forevermore,  even  for  this 
that  they  be  not  sons  of  Abraham.’ ’ 

Parush  answereth,  “Let  them  be  accursed  indeed. — Although 
I  have  had  for  a  time  as  a  pupil  (thou  hast  not  seen  him)  a  gigantic 
Greek  called  ‘ Philedonus, ’  or  ‘Seeker  After  Pleasure.’  He  learneth 
easily  and  remembereth  much,  he  likewise  looseth  gold  unstintedly 
upon  my  housetop — the  which  I  afterwards  find  and  keep.  Yet  is  he 
not  son  of  Abraham.  Therefore  I  would  thou  wouldst  not  meet  him. 
Moreover,  he  seemeth  to  be  longing,  longing,  ever  longing  for  some¬ 
thing  better  than  our  Law.  He  is  unworthy.” 

At  this  there  passed  over  from  a  neighboring  bridge,  and  upon 
their  very  house-top,  a  Gentile  woman  which  raised  her  veil,  and 
stopped  and  looked  long  at  Parush.  And  behold,  her  impudent  cheeks 
were  stained  a  bright  scarlet,  and  her  eyes  were  darkened  with  kohl, 
and  her  hair  sprinkled  with  oil  and  gold  powder  and  perfumed  with 
anise. 

Parush  mumbled:  “This  is  indeed  one  of  those  Gentiles.”  Yet 
he  looked  upon  her  gladly. 

She  said  to  him,  “I  have  a  child  that  starveth  in  such  and  such 
a  place.  Wilt  thou  not  come  and  see  unto  it?” 

Parush  saith,  “There  shall  be  no  alms  asked  of  Parush  in  vain. 
He  will  surely  come,  and  that  upon  this  night.” 

The  woman  smiled  again,  and  went  her  way.  Then  said  Parush, 
“Let  us  not  speak  again  of  the  fellow,  Christ.  He  hath  come  to 
destroy.  ’  ’ 

But,  at  this,  there  stepped  upon  the  house-top  a  Jewish  widow 
in  poor  apparel.  She  said  to  Parush,  “The  officers  take  my  home. 
They  say  it  is  in  thy  name  they  take  it,  and  for  this,  that  I  have 
borrowed  moneys  of  thee,  and,  though  I  have  paid  to  thee  those  moneys 
back,  together  with  a  very  great  usury,  yet,  of  all  of  the  usury  which 
I  owed,  that  have  I  not  paid  wholly  unto  thee.  They  therefore  take 
my  house.” 

But  Parush  beat  on  a  gong,  and  strong  men  issued  from  the  courts 
below.  As  they  took  the  woman  away,  they  smote  her  and  cursed. 

Then  closed  Parush  his  eyes  again,  and  said,  dreamily:  “I  have 
tithed  my  mint  and  my  anise  and  my  cummin,  and  I  give  great  alms 
each  day  in  public  places.  More  I  cannot  do.  I  swear  by  the  gold 


DIVINE  ASSISTANCE 


167 


of  the  Temple  and  also  by  the  altar  of  that  Temple  that  more  I 
cannot  do. — But  the  Law!  Let  us  on  to  the  Law. ” 

Simon  said  unto  him,  4  ‘  If  thou  wilt,  0  Lord.  ’  ’ 

Then  Parush :  ‘  ‘  There  are  twenty-four  chapters  on  the  Sabbath, 
the  day  thou  shalt  not  labor.  But,  first  of  all,  we  need  to  know 
precisely  what  is  ‘  labor.  ’  Now  there  are  labors  that  are  large  and 
labors  that  are  small.  The  former  kinds  of  labor  are  called  Aboth 
(Fathers),  because  they  are  the  begetters  of  much  other  work.  And 
thou  shalt  count  the  Fathers  up  to  the  number  of  forty  saving  one. 
But  each  of  the  Fathers  hath  Descendants  (Toledoth),  the  lesser 
labors,  which  come  to  existence  because  of  the  existence  of  the 
Aboth. 

“And  the  Aboth  (the  fathers  of  labor)  they  are  these:  sowing, 
plowing,  reaping,  binding  sheaves,  threshing,  winnowing,  sifting, 
grinding,  sifting  in  a  sieve,  kneading,  baking,  shearing  the  wool, 
washing  wool,  beating  wool,  dyeing  wool,  spinning,  putting  the  yarn 
upon  the  weaver’s  beam,  making  two  thrum  threads,  weaving  two 
threads,  separating  two  threads,  making  a  knot,  undoing  a  knot, 
sewing  two  stitches,  tearing  in  order  to  sew  two  stitches,  catching  deer, 
killing,  skinning,  salting  it,  preparing  its  skin,  scraping  off  its  hair, 
cutting  it  up,  writing  two  letters,  scraping  in  order  to  write  two 
letters,  building,  pulling  down,  extinguishing  fire,  lighting  fire,  beating 
with  the  hammer,  and  carrying  from  one  possession  into  the  other. 

“But  first  I  will  give  thee  a  little  outline  of  ‘The  Sabbath,’  to 
the  end  that  later  thou  mayest  learn  in  full,  omitting  nothing. 

“The  law  of  the  Sabbath  extendeth  so  as  to  include  the  Friday 
afternoon,  though  the  Sabbath,  as  thou  knowest,  beginneth  with  the 
night  of  Friday.  But  when,  now,  is  it  night  ?  Does  one  star  appear  ? 
It  is  still  Friday.  Two  stars?  It  is  between  the  two  days.  Three 
stars?  The  night  hath  come,  and  the  Sabbath  is  truly  here.  And 
between  the  first  star  and  the  third  the  Chazzan  of  every  synagogue 
goeth  up  to  the  roof  of  a  house  that  is  near  unto  the  synagogue,  and 
bloweth  six  times  on  his  trumpet.  At  the  first  of  the  blasts,  all  labor 
ceases  in  the  fields,  at  the  second  all  the  labors  in  the  cities  and  the 
towns,  at  the  third  the  Sabbath  lamp  is  lighted  in  every  house  of 
city,  town,  and  village. 

“But  now  there  be  full  many  people  who,  if  caught  at  labor  when 
the  third  star  appeareth,  will  shun  to  lay  the  work  aside,  and  so 
cometh  sin.  Hence  there  are  many  mishnayoth  about  such  work  as 
may  not  be  begun  of  an  afternoon  on  Friday.  I  give  you  of  these  a 
few,  with  certain  very  simple  gemara  upon  them. 

“Mishna.  One  shall  not  sit  down  of  a  Friday  before  the  hair- 


168 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


cutter  at  the  approach  of  the  time  for  afternoon  devotion,  before  he 
hath  said  his  prayers.  Nor  shall  he  enter  a  bathroom  or  a  tannery 
(and  the  same  is  true  of  a  factory  or  any  large  business),  or  sit  down 
to  eat,  or  begin  to  plead  a  case  before  a  judge.  Yet,  if  he  be  started 
on  these  things,  he  need  not  interrupt  himself. 

“ Gemara .  One  should  not  begin  cutting  his  hair,  as  a  precaution 
against  accident,  for  his  scissors  might  break;  a  bath  to  sweat,  lest 
he  grow  exhausted;  a  tannery,  lest  he  notice  some  damage  to  his 
wares  and  become  confused ;  nor  shall  he  sit  down  to  eat  lest  the  meal 
be  protracted;  pleading  a  case  of  justice,  lest  argument  be  advanced 
which  overthrows  all  previous  argument,  and  until  all  this  is  settled 
the  Min ’ha  prayer  will  be  forgotten. 

‘  ‘  From  just  what  moment  does  the  cutting  of  the  hair  commence  ? 
From  the  moment  when  the  barber’s  cloth  is  spread  above  him  whose 
hair  is  to  be  removed.  Bathing  begins  at  the  moment  when  the  coat 
is  taken  off ;  tanning  at  the  moment  when  the  work-apron  is  tied  upon 
the  shoulders;  a  meal  at  the  moment  when  the  hands  are  washed. 
But  another  rabbi  saith,  At  the  moment  when  the  girdle  is  removed. 
On  a  time  I  will  harmonize  to  thee  all  such  apparent  differences. 
For  see,  I  give  thee  now,  at  the  first  of  thy  studies  of  the  Sabbath, 
only  a  very  little  at  one  time.  Later,  I  will  give  thee  more,  and  so 
thou  shalt  not  be  at  any  time  a-surfeited.  But,  to  go  forward  to  the 
present — 

“Mishna.  A  tailor  shall  not  go  out  (when  it  is  nearly  dark  on  a 
Friday)  with  his  needle;  for  he  might  forget  and  go  on  bearing  the 
needle  with  him  after  the  Sabbath  had  begun.  Nor  shall  a  scribe 
go  out  with  his  pen,  when  it  is  late  of  a  Friday  afternoon ;  nor  shall 
anyone  search  for  vermin  then  in  his  garments,  or  read  by  the  light 
of  a  lamp.  An  instructor,  verily,  may  follow  the  children  as  they 
read,  but  he  himself  ?  he  shall  not  read  by  the  light  of  a  lamp. 

“Gemara.  Does  not  the  Mishna  mean,  When  the  tailor’s  needle 
is  stuck  in  the  garment  ?  Nay,  it  treateth  of  the  case  when  the  tailor 
holdeth  it  in  his  hand.  But  the  tailor  shall  not  go  out  with  the  needle 
sticking  in  his  garment,  if  the  Sabbath  be  already  come. 

“And  the  following  points  are  also  true:  A  carpenter  shall  not 
go  out  late  upon  a  Friday  with  his  rules  behind  his  ear ;  nor  a  cloth 
cleaner  with  the  spanning  cord  behind  his  ear;  nor  a  weaver  with 
the  stuffing  cotton  behind  his  ear. 

“And  now  I  will  ask  thee  a  great  question,  0  dyer  of  many  things. 
Give  thou  good  heed  thereto.  Shall  a  dyer  go  out  of  a  Friday  after¬ 
noon  with  his  ensamples  around  his  neck?” 

Now  Simon  had  often  done  this  thing,  being,  as  yet,  imperfect 


DIVINE  ASSISTANCE 


169 


in  the  Law,  so  he  said,  as  one  that  would  uphold  his  own  ways :  ‘  ‘  He 
may  go.” 

Then  opened  Parush  two  astounded  eyes.  ‘ ‘He  may  go!  ‘He 
may  go/  sayest  thou?  Thou  a  dyer,  and  wouldst  also  be  a  Pharisee 
and  scribe?  Listen.  He  may  NOT  go.  If  he  goeth,  he  is  in  deep 

•  y  y 

sin. 

Then  said  Simon  of  Gyrene,  “Thy  pardon,  Prince  and  Master. 

I  am  still  as  a  little  child  before  thee  and  before  all  learned  men. 
Have  pity  upon  mine  ignorance,  and  believe  it  is  only  because  of  my 
lack  of  knowledge  that  here  I  kneel  before  thee,  for  the  pleasure, 
and  the  love,  and  the  glory  of  learning  at  thy  sacred  feet. 7  7 

Parush  was  in  some  measure  mollified.  But  yet,  as  he  closeth  his 
eyes  again,  he  stroketh  them  gently  with  his  fingers,  and  his  temples 
and  forehead  also,  as  one  that  wisheth  to  declare  unto  all  men,  “I 
suffer,  oh,  I  suffer,  from  the  ignorance  of  such  persons.  But  may 
J ehovah  strengthen  me  to  endure  the  suffering.  ’ ’ 

Said  he,  after  a  time:  “A  man  must  examine  his  garments  on  a 
Friday  evening,  or  ere  it  getteth  dark,  to  see  whether  there  is  anything 
in  them  that  must  not  be  carried  about  upon  the  Sabbath,  for  to  carry 
a  burden  on  the  Sabbath,  that  is  sore  sin.  Now,  my  son,  I  will  ask  * 
thee,  What  is  a  burden  ?  ’  ’ 

‘  *  The  weight  of  a  dried  fig,  O  Father. 7  7 

“It  is  true.  But  if  half  a  fig  be  carried  on  the  Sabbath  at  two 
different  times — is  that  a  desecration  of  the  Sabbath?” 

‘  ‘  I  know  not.  ’ 7 

“And  yet  thou  art  a  son  of  Israel!  On  a  day  I  will  give  thee 
many  lessons  on  the  state  of  mind,  the  locality,  and  likewise  many 
other  matters  whereon  depends  the  answer  to  my  question. 

“But,  for  the  present:  One  shall  not  search  for  vermin  in  the 
street,  upon  a  Sabbath,  out  of  self-respect.  Neither  shall  anyone 
vomit  in  the  street  upon  a  Sabbath,  out  of  self-respect.” 

Here  Parush  pondered.  Then  said  he,  “When  a  rabbi  telleth  a 
matter  of  unusual  importance,  he  leaneth  toward  his  pupil  and 
whispereth  in  an  ear.”  Then  leaneth  he  toward  Simon. 

And  whispered  in  Simon’s  ear:  “A  man  who,  on  a  Sabbath, 
seeking  about  his  garments  and  finding  therein  a  louse,  shall  not 
crack  that  louse  between  his  nails,  but  simply  rub  it  with  his  fingers 
and  cast  it  then  away.  This  is  a  spiritual  and  important  admon¬ 
ition.  ’  ’ 

And  Simon  bowed  his  head,  and  kissed  the  knee  of  Parush.  For 
he  had  not  before  known  these  things.  And  he  said,  “They  will 
keep  me  from  idolatry — such  things.  ’ 7 


170 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


Said  Parush,  with  a  smile,  for  he  saw  that  he  had  a  willing 
scholar,  “The  Mishna  saith,  One  shall  not  read  of  a  Friday  evening 
by  the  light  of  any  lamp.  And  the  rule  doth  hold  if  the  lamp  be 
placed  the  height  of  two  men  from  the  ground,  or  of  two  of  the  stories 
of  a  house,  or  even  of  ten  large  houses,  placed  one  house  upon  another. 
Now  it  also  saith,  ‘One  shall  not  read.’  But  how  about  two,  how 
about  two?” 

“I  know  not,”  Simon  confessed. 

“ Two  may  read,  ”  saith  Parush,  “but  only  if  they  read  one  subject. 
If  two  men  read  two  subjects,  then  they  are  guilty.  But  a  prominent 
man  may  always  read  by  the  light  of  any  lamp  upon  a  Friday  evening. 
Now  why?  Because  he  never  would  degrade  himself  to  stir  or  snuff 
the  wick.  He  can  be  trusted. 

“Mishna.  The  house  of  Shamai  saith  that  neither  ink  nor  dye- 
material  nor  fodder  for  any  animal,  shall  be  put  into  water  on  a 
Friday,  unless  there  be  full  time  for  them  to  soak  completely  up 
or  ere  the  Sabbath  hath  arrived.  There  shall  be  no  thing  (they  say) 
still  soaking  on  the  Sabbath.  The  house  of  Hillel  lets  us  do  this:  it 
is  wrong.  And  the  Beth  Shamai  also  prohibits  the  putting  of  bundles 
of  linen  thread  into  an  oven  there  to  bleach,  unless  there  be  sufficient 
time  left  for  the  bundles  to  get  heated  through  or  ere  the  Sabbath 
arrive. 

“And  now,  my  son,  I  will  ask  thee  yet  another  question.  May 
wool  be  set  in  a  dye-kettle,  if  there  be  not  time  still  left  for  it  to 
soak  up  thoroughly  before  the  Sabbath?” 

Then  answereth  Simon,  “It  may  not  be  done;  there  must  be  time 
for  the  wool  to  have  finished  soaking.” 

And  Parush  opened  his  eyes  again,  and  looked  upon  the  giant 
kindly.  “Thou  art  a  good  man,”  said  he,  “and  deservest  further 
understanding  of  Jehovah’s  Law. — Now,  traps  shall  not  be  set 
for  animals  and  birds,  or  nets  for  fishes,  on  a  Friday,  unless  there  still 
is  time  for  the  animals,  the  birds,  or  the  fishes  to  be  caught  before 
sunset. 

“And  further — ”  Here  he  leaned  and  once  more  whispered, 
“One  shall  not  sell  anything  to  a  Gentile  on  a  Friday,  or  help  him 
load  his  animal,  or  help  him  shoulder  a  burden  unless  it  is  plain  that 
the  Gentile  can  reach  with  his  load  the  nearest  place  before  the 
Sabbath.  Neither  shall  hides  be  given  to  a  tanner  nor  clothes  to  a 
Gentile  washer  on  a  Friday,  unless  there  still  shall  be  time  enough 
for  the  work  to  be  finished  ere  the  Sabbath.  But  the  presses  may  be 
put  on  grapes  and  olives  in  the  press-pits  as  long  as  it  still  is  day.” 

Parush  straightened  up  and  again  closed  his  eyes.  “Let  us  once 


DIVINE  ASSISTANCE 


171 


more  have  Gemara.  “If  one  put  flour  in  a  vessel,  and  another  one 
put  water  on  it,  the  latter  is  guilty  of  the  act  of  kneading.  At  twilight, 
of  a  Sabbath  eve,  one  may  make  an  opening  in  a  spring,  so  that  the 
water  may  run  into  a  garden  the  whole  of  a  Sabbath  day.  He  may 
also  put  smoking  incense  underneath  garments,  so  that  they  hold  the 
fragrance  all  a  Sabbath  day.  It  is  also  permitted  to  set  burning 
sulphur  under  enameled  vessels,  so  that  its  smoke  shall  act  upon  the 
paints  the  whole  of  a  Sabbath  day.  It  is  also  allowed  for  one  to  put 
a  balm  on  the  eye  and  a  plaster  on  a  wound,  so  that  the  healing 
process  shall  continue  throughout  the  Sabbath.  But  hold — it  is 
plainly  prohibited  to  put  grain  into  a  water-mill,  unless  there  is  yet 
enough  daytime  left  for  it  to  be  ground.  The  reason?  Even  tools 
must  have  their  rest. 

“Now,  thou  mayest  ask,  my  son,  why,  when  the  resting  of  tools  is 
obligatory,  the  Sopherim  yet  permit  the  placing  of  sulphur  and 
incense  to  smoke  and  linen  thread  to  bleach  upon  the  Sabbath?  The 
reason:  that  in  these  latter  cases  the  tools  are  practically  at  rest. 
But  do  not  traps  for  animals  and  birds,  and  nets  that  are  set  for 
fishes,  do  not  these  wrork?  Not  at  all.  Neither  the  traps  nor  the 
nets  do  work,  but  only  the  fish  and  the  animals  do  work,  which  insinu¬ 
ate  themselves  within  the  nets  and  traps. 

“A  woman  shall  not  put  dried  lentils  and  peas  into  an  oven  late 
of  a  Friday  afternoon,  and  leave  them  there  to  soften.  If  she  needs 
them  for  after  the  Sabbath,  she  shall  not  use  them,  unless  she  waits 
the  length  of  time  required  to  cook  the  same  things  from  the  beginning. 
Likewise,  no  baker  shall  set  any  vessel  containing  water  into  the  oven 
late  of  a  Friday  afternoon.  If  he  needeth  hot  water  for  the  Sabbath, 
he  shall  not  use  this  water  unless  he  verily  waiteth  as  long  as  it  would 
take  to  boil  the  water  from  the  beginning. 

“One  shall  not  sell  a  thing  to  a  Gentile,  nor  lend  it  to  him, 
nor  help  him  carry  it,  nor  lend  him  nor  present  him  with  money  of  a 
Sabbath  even,  unless  there  still  is  time  enough  for  the  recipient  to  reach 
his  house  before  the  night  cometh.  One,  of  a  Sabbath,  may  set  down 
on  his  own  grounds  food  for  the  use  of  a  Gentile.  If  the  latter 
take  the  food  and  carry  it  away,  the  Jew  need  not  hinder  him. 

“One  shall  not  hire  out  his  tools  to  a  Gentile  on  a  Friday,  but  he 
may  of  a  Wednesday  or  Thursday,  although  he  surely  knoweth  that 
the  Gentile  will  use  them  on  the  Sabbath.  So,  too,  we  may  not  send 
a  letter  by  a  Gentile  on  a  Friday,  but  we  may  on  a  Wednesday  or  a 
Thursday.  One  shall  not  send  a  letter  by  a  Gentile  on  a  Friday, 
unless  it  be  conditioned  that  a  certain  sum  shall  be  paid  for  the 
carrying  of  the  message.  But  even  without  a  condition,  a  letter  may 


172 


SIMON  OF  GYRENE 


be  sent  by  a  Gentile  if  the  messenger  have  time  enough  to  reach 
the  house  of  its  delivery  or  ere  the  coming  of  the  Sabbath. 

‘  ‘  It  is  said  of  old :  No  one  shall  embark  on  a  vessel  less  than  three 
days  before  the  Sabbath.  But  this  is  only  true  if  the  traveller  set  to 
sea  on  private  business.  If  he  goeth  for  a  meritorious  act,  then  the 
rule  hath  no  validity.  He  may  also  bargain  with  the  owner  of  a 
boat  that  it  shall  rest  upon  a  Sabbath,  although  he  know  that  the 
owner  will  not  keep  his  word.  To  travel  from  Tyre  to  Sidon,  one  may 
embark  even  on  a  Friday. 

‘ 1  Siege  shall  not  be  laid  to  Gentile  cities  less  than  three  days  before 
a  Sabbath.  But,  once  the  siege  is  laid,  it  need  not  (because  of  any 
Sabbath)  be  lifted  for  a  time. 

“White  clothes  should  be  given  unto  the  washer  three  full  days 
before  the  Sabbath,  but  colored  clothes  even  of  a  Friday,  for  it  is 
harder  to  wash  white  clothes  than  colored  ones. 

“Garlic,  unripe  grapes,  and  green  grain-stalks  which  were  crushed 
of  a  Friday,  may  be  set  under  pressure  at  sunset,  but  honeycombs 
that  were  crushed  on  Friday  shall  not  be  put  in  the  press  at  sunset, 
so  that  the  honey  may  run  out  of  itself. 

“And,  once  again,  a  Mishna.  Meats,  onions,  and  eggs  shall  not 
be  put  to  roast  of  a  Sabbath  eve,  unless  they  can  be  done  before  the 
Sabbath.  Bread  shall  not  be  put  in  the  oven  or  a  cake  upon  live  coals, 
unless  the  crust  can  form  ere  the  Sabbath. 

“It  is  written:  Ye  shall  not  kindle  any  fire  throughout  your 
habitations  upon  the  Sabbath  day.  But,  in  the  heating-house  of  the 
sanctuary,  the  fire  may  be  fed  at  evening,  and,  in  the  rural  districts, 
it  is  lawful  to  feed  till  the  flames  enwrap  the  greatest  portion  of  the 
fuel.  And  it  hath  been  said,  When  coals  have  already  burned,  more 
fuel  may  be  added,  although  the  Sabbath  is  quite  near. 

“Gemara.  When  should  such  victuals  (meat,  eggs,  and  onions) 
be  considered  ‘done*?’’ 

“I  know  not, ”  admitted  Simon  blankly,  for  his  mind  had  been 
called  to  a  tumult  in  the  distance. 

Then  said  Parush,  “As  soon  as  they  are  done  like  the  victuals  of 
Ben  Drostai.,, 

“And  who,”  said  Simon,  “was  Ben  Drostai.” 

“He  was  a  very  great  robber.  He  never  could  stay  in  one  place 
long  enough  to  cook  a  meal.  So  he  cooked  each  dish  one-third  as 
long  as  any  one  else  would  have  cooked  it.  He  was  a  villain,  but  he 
knew — ” 

And  now  the  tumult  soared  above  all  the  starlit  roofs,  so  that 
even  Parush,  ceasing  to  murmur,  opened  his  eyes  wide. 


DIVINE  ASSISTANCE 


173 


And  master  and  scholar  turned,  and  the  sounds  increased.  People 
scattered  right  and  left  on  the  various  house-tops,  and  gat  them 
quickly  off  the  bridges.  For  behold,  a  pursuit  was  near  at  hand — and 
a  great  hue  and  cry,  and  certain  men  were  leading  and  others  more 
swiftly  followed,  being  Roman  soldiers. 

And  when  the  men  that  fled  had  come  to  the  house-top  of  Parush, 
then  cried  Simon :  ‘  ‘  Barabbas !  Dysmas !  Gestas !  ’  ’ 

But  Parush  had  arisen  and  closed  the  gates  that  led  to  the  bridges 
which  drew  away  from  his  house-top,  also  those  that  led  down  into 
his  courts. 

And  they  that  fled,  when  they  had  got  upon  the  roof  of  Parush, 
looked  over  the  parapet  into  the  street,  and  beheld  that  the  distance 
was  much  too  great  that  they  should  leap. 

And  the  soldiers  came  upon  them,  and  fought  them,  and,  having 
subdued  them,  put  manacles  upon  them. 

Then  Parush  opened  the  gates,  and  the  soldiers  took  away  the 
thieves. 

Asked  Parush  of  Simon,  ‘ ‘  Dost  thou  know  these  men  ? 1  ’ 

Simon  told  all  he  knew  concerning  them. 

Parush :  ‘  ‘  Barabbas  is  well  named.  For  behold !  the  name  which 
he  beareth,  it  doth  signify,  ‘the  son  of  his  father/  And  he  is  indeed 
proud,  for  that  he  cometh  of  a  long  lineage  of  thieves,  yea  and  of  the 
cruellest  of  murderers.  But  Dysmas  and  Gestas  are  much  lesser  men. 
They  have,  for  imaginary  offenses,  taken  reprisals  even  on  me  myself. 
Hence,  just  now,  I  locked  up  their  way  against  them.  I  will  tell  thee 
further  that  Dysmas  is  a  Greek,  and  he  taketh  Greek  revenges :  that 
is,  only  because  of  some  offense  that  hath  been  done  to  himself.  But 
Gestas  is  a  J ew,  and,  though  a  thief,  yet  for  insults  to  our  Law  hath  he 
revenged  himself  repeatedly.  And  often,  though  in  secret,  I  have, 
for  this,  caused  him  to  escape  Csesar.  Moreover,  the  Greek  doth 
sooner  forget  a  revenge,  but  taketh  one  more  bloodily;  while  Gestas, 
being  a  Jew,  forgetteth  not  at  all,  but  is  lighter  in  the  thing  which 
he  would  do  when  he  catcheth  his  enemy. 

“Yet  see!  the  Virgin,  Bethulah,  whom  the  Greeks  call  Athene, 
and  the  Romans  Virgo.  She  riseth  now  above  Jehosaphat.  May  the 
virgin  from  whom  our  Shiloh  shall  come,  be  soon  in  the  ascendant, 
also.  Meantime,  let  us  on  with  the  Law,  so — to  bed. 

“And  I  have  finished  (in  a  casual  way)  the  first  of  the  chapters  on 
‘The  Sabbath/  The  second  consisteth  of  the  regulations  as  about 
the  Sabbath  and  ‘hanukah’  lights. 

“ Mishna .  What  shall  and  what  shall  not  be  used  for  lighting 
the  Sabbath  light?  The  light  shall  not  be  made  with  wicks  of  cedar 


174 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


bast,  raw  flax,  silk  fibre,  weeds  growing  upon  the  water,  or  ship-moss. 
Nor  shall  pitch  be  used,  nor  wax,  nor  cotton-seed  oil,  oil  of  rejected 
heave-offerings,  the  fat  from  the  tail  of  sheep,  or  any  kind  of  tallow.  ’  ’ 

And  so  on  and  on.1 * * * 

Ah  Simon,  thou  God-chosen  priest  of  Cyrene!  Little  indeed  will 
the  problems  of  space  and  time,  of  far-flung  matter  and  the  parent  of 
all  time  which  is  yclept  eternity,  be  shone  upon  and  illuminated  by 
the  dry,  dead  details  of  this  dull  thing  called  Law.  Instead,  the  very 
heart  of  thee  will  turn  ever  colder,  and  the  love  of  Adonai — 

But  there  cometh  a  knocking  on  the  trap-door  of  the  roof.  And 
Parush,  standing,  cried  out,  as  was  the  custom:  “ Blessed  is  he  that 
cometh  in  the  name  of  the  Lord.” 

Lo,  there  entered  four  strange  men: — Alukah,  the  horse-leech, 
little  and  lean  and  sharp  of  shoulder;  dirty  and  narrow  in  his  fore¬ 
head;  and  with  small,  bright,  deeply  impenitent  eyes:  Gannab,  the 
perpetual  criminal :  Na-aph,  the  adulterer :  Keseel,  the  fool. 

Parush  sate  again,  and  said  unto  Simon,  “See!  we  have  here 
four  men,  who  are  truly  Jews  and  yet  are  of  little  resemblance 
either  unto  thee  or  unto  me.  Whenever  I  touch  them  I  am  contami¬ 
nate,  even  as  a  man  f eeleth  contaminate  at  the  touch  of  a  cross.  ’  ’ 

He  flung  the  men  coppers.  They  scrambled,  and  having  kissed 
the  feet  of  Parush,  went  their  ways. 

Then  arose  the  Master  once  again,  saying:  “The  lesson  is  over; 
for  the  Maiden  standeth  yonder  about  the  ridge  of  the  Hill  of  Evil 
Counsel,  and  all  the  mazzaroth  declare  that  the  night  is  far  spent.” 

Said  Simon,  “0  Prince,  0  Master,  0  Father,  I  must  pay  thee  yet 
again.” 

“Thou  never  hast  paid  me,”  said  Parush.  “Thou  never  canst. 
The  Law  is  free  to  every  man.” 

“But  I  have  heretofore  left  upon  thy  house-top  certain  moneys. 
This  I  again  do.  Shouldst  thou  chance  to  find  them—” 

Parush ’s  eyes  glittered.  “What  is  lost,”  saith  he,  “belongeth  to 
the  finder. — But,  as  for  this  fellow,  Jesus,  I  would  say  to  thee  once 
again,  He  is  of  none  authority.  Sit  not  we,  the  scribes  and  Pharisees, 
in  Moses 9  seat  ?  And  when  Messiah  truly  cometh,  He  will  come  with 
a  shout  and  with  a  sword  in  His  hand,  and  all  the  nations  shall 
fall  down  before  Him.  And  He  will  reign  in  Jerusalem;  and  the 
City  will  be  greatly  changed.  Adamant  and  rubies  and  hyacinths 

1For  thousands  of  other  rules,  see  Rodkinson,  “The  Babylonian  Talmud, 

English  Edition,”  10  vols.,  New  York,  1901.  The  so-called  “Babylonian”  Talmud 

was  not  only  more  extensive,  it  was  also  more  highly  esteemed  than  the  other, 

the  “Jerusalem,”  Talmud. 


DIVINE  ASSISTANCE 


175 


and  emeralds  will  cover  the  very  streets  and  the  housetops,  and  every 
gate  will  be  of  a  single,  carven  pearl.  The  City  will  reach  from 
Joppa  to  Damascus,  and  all  the  buildings  run  up  nine  miles  into  the 
sky.  In  those  days,  at  the  touch  of  every  wind  the  white  flour  will 
drop  from  the  ripened  heads  of  wheat.  From  every  grape  a  cask 
of  wine  will  issue.  There  shall  be  neither  sickness  nor  pain.  And 
all  the  dispersed  shall  come  back  to  Jerusalem,  and  Jerusalem  shall 
be  the  capital  of  the  world,  for  Messiah  shall  be  more  than  Cassar.” 

He  drew  himself  to  his  full  height,  and  turning,  looked  toward  the 
Temple.  “Messiah  shall  be  more  than  Cassar !  ’ ’  he  shouted,  in  the  voice 
as  it  were  of  an  archangel.  “Messiah  shall  be  more  than  Caesar !” 
Even  Parush  was  sometimes  bold. 

Simon  grew  each  day  in  his  knowledge  of  the  Law.  And  more 
and  more  he  loved  front  seats  in  the  synagogues,  and  salutations  in 
the  streets.  Many  there  were  who  already  began  to  call  him  “Master’7 
and  “Father.”  He  broadened  his  phylacteries,  and  lengthened  the 
fringes  of  his  garments — that  he  might  become  like  Parush.  And 
when  he  sware,  he  sware  by  the  Temple  (for  that  was  nothing)  but 
never  by  the  gold  that  was  in  the  Temple  (for  that  would  have  made 
him  answerable).  Also  he  sware  by  the  altar  (which  was  nothing) 
but  never  by  the  offering  that  was  on  the  altar  (for  that  would  have 
made  him  accountable). 

And  a  thousand  rules  like  these,  a  thousand  times  ten  thousand, 
he  learned  from  the  lips  of  Parush. 

And  behold,  the  giant  of  Cyrene  well-nigh  forgat  both  Amahnah 
and  the  children,  for  the  yoke  of  the  Law  grew  heavier  and  heavier. 

But  he  gave  great  alms  unto  many,  and  had  thought  to  get  him 
a  trumpet  and  a  servant — perchance  Alukah  or  Judas  Iscariot.  But 
that  was  not  to  be,  for,  on  a  day,  as  he  stood  without  his  door,  the 
bright  threads  of  his  calling  in  his  ears,  there  ran  a  great  crowd 
through  the  Dyers  Street  and  also  the  Street  of  the  Potters,  and  so 
on  down  the  Coppersmith  Way,  and  (as  he  thought)  in  the  way  of 
the  Tyropoeon  and  the  Temple. 

Then  came  suddenly  another  multitude.  Men  cried,  ‘  1  King !  The 
King !  Hosannah !  The  King !  ’  ’ 

Said  Simon  to  a  person  that  ran,  “What  king?  What  king  is  this 
thou  dost  shout  for?” 

“King  Jesus,  Kabbi!”  answered  the  man,  and  waited  to  give  no 
further  salutation,  but  again  ran. 

Then  Simon  in  his  heart,  remembering  all  that  Gheburah  had  told 
him:  “I  must  behold  King  Jesus.  He  is  at  least  a  worker1  of 
miracles.  ’  ’ 


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SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


He  therefore  rushed  back  into  the  house,  and  placed  him  in  a 
fitter  garment  for  to  see  a  king,  and  having  embraced  Amahnah  and 
the  children,  went  straight  forth. 

Looking  back,  he  saw  his  children. 

And  this  was  the  last  that  ever  he  did  see  them  till  his  dying  day. 
For  behold,  a  great  change  was  about  to  pass  on  the  face  of  the  whole 
world,  in  especial  on  the  fortunes  of  Simon-Solomon  of  Cyrenaica. 


CHAPTER  XXV 
The  Two  Cross-Bearers 

Following  the  multitude,  Simon  of  Cyrene  passed  out  through 
the  Temple,  across  J ehosaphat,  and  up  the  crowded  western  side  of  the 
Olivet  Mount. 

And  all  that  were  of  the  multitude  brake  them  off  branches  of 
palm-trees  (and  Simon  also)  crying,  “Hosanna:  Blessed  is  the  King 
of  Israel  that  cometh  in  the  name  of  the  Lord !  ’  ’  And  Ophidion  was 
among  them,  and  shouted  with  a  very  loud  voice. 

And  Simon,  recollecting  all  the  mighty  works  of  Jesus  whereof 
he  had  heard,  said  in  his  heart:  “Surely,  at  length,  there  is  come 
our  very  Lord  and  King.  Even  Ophidion,  the  monster,  doth  follow 
Him.  And  the  Nations  shall  fall  before  Him.  Even  as  wheat  before 
a  sickle,  so  shall  the  Gentiles  fall;  and  Jerusalem  shall  be  glorified 
and  exalted  utterly.  ” 

They  met  King  Jesus,  riding  on  an  ass’s  colt,  so  that  Simon  remem¬ 
bered  the  saying  of  Jehovah- Jireh.  Again  the  multitude  shouted, 
“Hosanna!  Blessed  is  He  that  cometh  in  the  name  of  the  Lord.” 
Ophidion  was  among  them,  and  shouted  with  a  very  loud  voico. 

Then  companied  they  Jesus  back  down  Olivet  and  into  the  Temple. 

And  Jesus,  having  turned  His  eyes  on  Simon  (but  unto  Ophidion 
He  gave  not  notice)  spake.  And  the  heart  of  the  giant  was  filled 
with  a  holy  fire.  He  thought :  “It  is  He !  Blessed  is  He  that  cometh 
in  the  name  of  the  Lord !  It  is  Shiloh,  Adonai.  At  last  I  have  seen 
Him  in  the  flesh.” 

Then  he  would  have  gone  and  kissed  Adonai ’s  hand,  and  laid 
himself  before  Him  in  the  dust,  but  he  was  full  of  a  too  great  fear. 

And  the  blind  and  the  lame  came  before  Jesus,  and  were  healed. 

And  all  glorified  God,  and  the  Temple  rang  with  the  praise  of 
Jesus — Jesus,  the  mighty;  Jesus,  the  Son  of  God;  Jesus,  the  con¬ 
queror  of  the  heathen;  Jesus,  Savior  of  His  people,  even  Israel. 

But  Jesus  went  over  to  where  they  were  that  sold  and  bought 


DIVINE  ASSISTANCE 


177 


in  the  Temple,  and  cast  them  out,  and  overthrew  the  tables  of  the 
money-changers,  and  the  seats  of  them  that  sold  doves.  And  said 
unto  them,  “It  is  written,  My  house  shall  be  called  the  house  of 
prayer,  but  ye  have  made  it  a  den  of  thieves.” 

And  Simon  saw  Parush  and  others  of  the  Pharisees.  And  he 
began  to  murmur  with  them,  because  Jesus  had  cast  out  from  the 
Temple  one  that  was  a  friend  to  Parush,  and  also  for  this  that  there 
were  certain  men  which  said  unto  Simon:  “He  hath  spoken  against 
the  Law,  and  is  a  blasphemer  of  the  Law.  Can  this  man  be  Christ  ?  ’ ’ 

Went  Parush  and  the  other  Pharisees,  and  took  counsel,  how  they 
might  entangle  Jesus  in  His  talk — for  these  were  determined  Jesus 
should  be  put  an  end  to. 

But  Simon  passed  down  to  Jericho,  which  is  on  the  Jordan.  There 
an  aged  priest  lived  which  owed  him  moneys.  Said  he  to  the  priest, 
“I  will  have  that  thou  owest  me.  For  I  have  talked  with  Parush, 
greatest  of  the  teachers  of  the  Law,  and  he  saith  thou  shalt  pay 
me,  yea,  to  the  uttermost.  For  I  am  Pharisee  and  Scribe,  thou 
merely  an  am-ha-aret,  which  is  dust  beneath  a  rabbi’s  feet.” 

Said  the  priest,  “I  will  sell  the  little  I  have  that  I  may  pay  thee. 
Abide  in  the  city  a  day.” 

All  that  he  had  the  man  sold,  and  Simon,  having  taken  the  moneys, 
returned  to  Jerusalem. 

And  when  he  had  called  together  many  beggars,  he  declared  with 
a  loud  voice :  “I  that  am  Simon  of  Cyrene,  I  am  very  holy  and  give 
alms.  ’ 7 

Then  all  the  moneys  which  the  aged  man  had  paid  him,  that  cast 
he  forth  to  the  beggars. 

But  while  he  yet  cast,  he  heard  multitudes  shouting :  1 1  King  J esus ! 
King  Jesus  again!” 

And  he  betook  him  to  the  Temple,  and  stood  in  the  court  of  the 
Gentiles,  where  Jesus  looked  once  more  upon  him,  so  that  in  his 
heart  Simon  was  ashamed  because  of  the  moneys  which  he  had  taken 
from  the  priest.  And  for  this,  that  he  was  ashamed,  he  began  again 
to  hate  JesuSo 

And  many  of  the  other  Scribes  and  Pharisees  were  in  the  Temple 
also.  Jesus  spake  unto  the  multitude  and  saith:  “The  Scribes  and 
Pharisees  sit  in  Moses’  seat;  all  therefore  whatsoever  they  bid  you 
observe,  that  observe  and  do ;  but  do  not  ye  after  their  works :  for 
they  say  and  do  not. 

“For  they  bind  heavy  burdens  and  grievous  to  be  borne  and  lay 
them  on  men ’s  shoulders ;  but  they  themselves  will  not  move  them 

with  one  of  their  fingers. 

12 


178 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


“But  all  their  works  they  do  for  to  be  seen  of  men:  they  make 
broad  their  phylacteries,  and  enlarge  the  borders  of  their  garments, 
and  love  the  uppermost  rooms  at  feasts,  and  the  chief  seats  in  the 
synagogues,  and  greetings  in  the  markets,  and  to  be  called  of  men, 
Rabbi,  Rabbi. 

“But  be  not  ye  called  Rabbi:  for  one  is  your  Master,  even  Christ; 
and  all  ye  are  brethren. 

“And  call  no  man  your  father  upon  the  earth;  for  one  is  your 
Father,  which  is  in  heaven. 

‘ 1  Neither  be  ye  called  Masters :  for  one  is  your  Master,  even  Christ. 

“But  he  that  is  greatest  among  you  shall  be  your  servant.  And 
whosoever  shall  exalt  himself  shall  be  abased ;  and  he  that  shall  humble 
himself  shall  be  exalted. 

“But  woe  unto  you,  Scribes  and  Pharisees,  hypocrites!  for  ye 
shut  up  the  kingdom  of  heaven  against  men:  for  ye  neither  go  in 
yourselves,  neither  suffer  ye  them  that  are  entering  to  go  in. 

“Woe  unto  you,  Scribes  and  Pharisees,  hypocrites!  for  ye  devour 
widows’  houses,  and  for  a  pretence  make  long  prayer:  therefore  ye 
shall  receive  the  greater  damnation. 

“Woe  unto  you,  Scribes  and  Pharisees,  hypocrites!  for  ye  com¬ 
pass  sea  and  land  to  make  one  proselyte,  and  when  he  is  made,  ye 
make  him  twofold  more  the  child  of  hell  than  yourselves. 

“Woe  unto  you,  ye  blind  guides,  which  say,  Whosoever  shall 
swear  by  the  temple,  it  is  nothing;  but  whosoever  shall  swear  by 
the  gold  of  the  temple,  he  is  a  debtor. 

“Ye  fools  and  blind:  for  whether  is  greater,  the  gold,  or  the 
temple  that  sanctifieth  the  gold? 

“And,  whosoever  shall  swear  by  the  altar,  it  is  nothing;  but 
whosoever  sweareth  by  the  gift  that  is  upon  it,  he  is  guilty. 

“Ye  fools  and  blind:  for  whether  is  greater,  the  gift,  or  the  altar 
that  sanctifieth  the  gift? 

“Whoso  therefore  shall  swear  by  the  altar,  sweareth  by  it,  and 
by  all  things  thereon. 

“And  whoso  shall  swear  by  the  temple,  sweareth  by  it,  and  by 
him  that  dwelleth  therein. 

“And  he  that  shall  swear  by  heaven,  sweareth  by  the  throne  of 
God,  and  by  him  that  sitteth  thereon. 

“Woe  unto  you,  Scribes  and  Pharisees,  hypocrites!  for  ye  pay 
tithe  of  mint  and  anise  and  cummin,  and  have  omitted  the  weightier 
matters  of  the  law,  judgment,  mercy,  and  faith:  these  ought  ye  to 
have  done,  and  not  to  leave  the  other  undone. 

“Ye  blind  guides,  which  strain  at  a  gnat,  and  swallow  a  camel. 


DIVINE  ASSISTANCE 


179 


“Woe  unto  you,  Scribes  and  Pharisees,  hypocrites!  for  ye  make 
clean  the  outside  of  the  cup  and  of  the  platter,  but  within  they  are 
full  of  extortion  and  excess. 

“Thou  blind  Pharisee,  cleanse  first  that  which  is  within  the  cup 
and  platter,  that  the  outside  of  them  may  be  clean  also. 

“Woe  unto  you,  Scribes  and  Pharisees,  hypocrites!  for  ye  are 
like  unto  whited  sepulchers,  which  indeed  appear  beautiful  outward, 
but  are  within  full  of  dead  men’s  bones,  and  of  all  uncleanness. 

“Even  so  ye  also  outwardly  appear  righteous  unto  men,  but 
within  ye  are  full  of  hypocrisy  and  iniquity. 

“Woe  unto  you,  Scribes  and  Pharisees,  hypocrites!  because  ye 
build  the  tombs  of  the  prophets,  and  garnish  the  sepulchers  of  the 
righteous,  and  say  If  we  had  been  in  the  days  of  our  fathers,  we 
would  not  have  been  partakers  with  them  in  the  blood  of  the  prophets. 
Wherefore  ye  be  witnesses  unto  yourselves,  that  ye  are  the  children  of 
them  which  killed  the  prophets. 

“Fill  ye  up  then  the  measure  of  your  fathers. 

“Ye  serpents,  ye  generation  of  vipers,  how  can  ye  escape  the 
damnation  of  hell? 

“Wherefore,  behold,  I  send  unto  you  prophets,  and  wise  men, 
and  scribes:  and  some  of  them  ye  shall  kill  and  crucify;  and  some 
of  them  shall  ye  scourge  in  your  synagogues,  and  persecute  them 
from  city  to  city. 

“That  upon  you  may  come  all  the  righteous  blood  shed  upon  the 
earth,  from  the  blood  of  righteous  Abel  unto  the  blood  of  Zacharias 
son  of  Barachias,  whom  ye  slew  between  the  temple  and  the  altar. 

“Verily  I  say  unto  you,  All  these  things  shall  come  upon  this 
generation. 

“O  Jerusalem,  Jerusalem,  thou  that  killest  the  prophets,  and 
stonest  them  which  are  sent  unto  thee,  how  often  would  I  have 
gathered  thy  children  together,  even  as  a  hen  gathereth  her  chickens 
under  her  wings,  and  ye  would  not! 

“Behold,  your  house  is  left  unto  you  desolate. 

“For  I  say  unto  you,  Ye  shall  not  see  me  henceforth,  till  ye  shall 
say,  Blessed  is  he  that  cometh  in  the  name  of  the  Lord.” 

Then  rent  Simon  his  inner  garment,  and  cast  dust  upon  his  head, 
and  sware  with  all  his  mind  and  heart  and  soul  and  strength  that 
never  would  he  say  these  words  at  any  time  unto  Jesus.  “Is  Jesus 
Adonai?”  he  asked.  “Nay,  by  God,  not  so.” 

He  ran  forth  of  the  Temple,  and  went  down  unto  Caesarea,  where 
a  Gentile  lived  which  owed  him  moneys.  Saith  the  Gentile  unto  him, 
“I  will  sell  the  little  I  have,  that  I  may  pay  thee  that  I  owe.” 


180 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


Simon  abode  in  the  city  for  a  day,  and  receiving  his  moneys, 
returned  to  Jerusalem,  being  minded  to  seek  out  his  own  house. 

Now,  it  was  his  duty,  and  it  should  have  been  his  pleasure,  to 
eat  the  passover  with  Amahnah  and  the  children,  together  with  cer¬ 
tain  of  the  neighbors,  but  his  heart  was  set  on  the  purchase  of  a 
piece  of  ground.  Thought  he,  “I  will  find  the  owner  of  that  ground, 
that  I  may  bargain  with  him.”  And  all  the  while  his  heart  was  hot 
and  bitter  against  Jesus.  He  kept  repeating,  “Never  will  I  say  unto 
thee,  ‘Blessed  is  he  that  cometh  in  the  name  of  the  Lord.’  ” 

Arrived  he  therefore  not  unto  his  own  house,  but,  by  the  way 
of  the  roofs,  unto  Bezetha,  the  portion  of  the  city  where  the  owner 
of  the  land  lived.  But  the  man  was  not  in  his  house,  having  departed 
for  another  place  with  his  whole  family,  there  to  eat  of  the  passover. 

Then  spake  Simon  with  one  called  Betsa,  whose  name,  being  in¬ 
terpreted,  meaneth  “ Covetousness. ’ ’  Betsa  saith  unto  him,  “Down 
in  the  lower  city  dwelleth  such  and  such  a  one  who  hath  yet  a  far 
better  piece  of  ground,  the  which  he  will  sell  for  less,  for  he  hath 
great  need  of  moneys.  But  get  thee  from  the  way  of  the  roofs,  and 
go  thou  down  by  the  lower  passages,  for  so  thou  mayest  discover  the 
man,  or  ere  thou  reach est  his  house.’ ’ 

And  Simon  was  fain  to  get  down  from  the  house-tops  (whereon 
were  the  many  paschal  booths)  and  into  the  streets  and  alleys  of 
the  city.  Prom  many  a  house  the  festal  lamp  shone  forth,  and  poured 
the  sounds  of  joy  and  merry-making,  and  all  the  streets  were  filled 
with  rush  and  hurry  and  glad  preparation  for  the  passover.  But 
Simon  of  Cyrene  kept  on  and  on,  and  would  soon  have  met  the  man 
which  had  sore  need  of  moneys. 

But  behold,  came  wild  shoutings,  clangor  of  cymbals,  trampling 
and  alarms.  Then  the  proud  voice  of  a  trumpet. 

And  the  people  cried  as  with  a  single  tongue,  “Pilate!  The 
Procurator !  ’ 9 

Then  some  did  curse,  but  others  shouted:  “Bow  the  knee!  Bow 
the  knee!  All  hail!  In  the  name  of  Caesar!” 

So  Simon  was  fain  to  take  yet  another  way  about,  and  when  he 
had  come  to  the  house  of  the  man  he  sought,  there  was  one  that  said : 
“Such  an  one?  He  hath  gone  even  now  to  the  Temple.  Thou  wilt 
surely  find  him  at  the  great  wall-gate,  which  there  is  by  the  Temple 
at  the  north.” 

And  Simon  went  and  stood  by  the  wall-gate  of  the  Temple,  and 
his  heart  was  hungry  and  covetous,  hot  and  bitter  also  concerning 
Jesus. 


DIVINE  ASSISTANCE 


181 


And  he  beheld  that  man,  even  Jesus,  approaching,  and  certain 
disciples  round  about  Him. 

And  he  watched  them  leave  the  city  by  the  gate,  and  go  down 
into  the  loneliest  part  of  the  black  valley  of  the  Kedron. 

And  though  he  knew  not  why,  nor  felt  compulsion,  yet  he  followed 
Jesus. 

Now  Jesus  and  His  disciples  crossed  the  brook  Kedron  by  a  little 
bridge,  turned  somewhat  to  the  left,  and,  straightway  after,  sharply 
into  the  right. 

And  Simon  saw  them  as  they  entered  the  “Oil  Press”  (or  Geth- 
semane)  a  tiny  garden  which  there  was  of  trees  and  flowering  shrubs, 
surrounded  by  a  fence  of  whitewashed  pickets,  which  stood  forth 
plainly  in  the  surrounding  darkness.  Beyond,  from  the  heights  of 
Olivet,  shone  hundreds  of  the  pilgrims’  festive  lamps,  and  flowed 
the  sounds  of  happy  talk  and  joyous  laughter. 

Simon  did  not  cross  the  brook,  but  stood  for  a  time  in  the  awful 
darkness  of  the  valley.  Behind  him,  he  felt  the  presence  of  the 
sacred  lights  on  Mount  Moriah. 

He  desireth  to  go  and  be  with  Jesus  in  the  garden,  yet  to  do  this 
thing  he  is  ashamed.  Moreover,  his  heart  is  bitter  still  toward  Jesus. 

After  a  time  he  heard  Jesus’  voice  in  gentle  protest,  who  saith: 
“What,  could  ye  not  watch  with  me  one  hour?” 

Then  thought  Simon,  “If  His  very  disciples  sleep,  and  will  not 
watch  beside  Him,  is  it  not  better  that  I  go  away?” 

He  went,  therefore,  and,  climbing  the  Temple  slope,  entered  by 
that  gate  whereby  he  had  left  the  city. 

And  lo !  there  were  coming  toward  him  Judas  Iscariot  and  a  band 
of  tall  men,  bearing  torches,  staves,  and  swords. 

Judas  inquired  of  the  Cyrenian,  “Hast  thou  seen  the  man  called 
Christ?  Is  he  not  in  Jehosaphat?” 

Said  Simon,  “The  King  of  all  this  world  weepeth  alone  in  Geth- 
semane.  ’  ’ 

And  the  men  passed  on. 

But  Simon  knew  not  whether  he  had  spoken  in  jest  or  earnest. 
When  he  had  deeply  pondered,  he  bowed  his  head  and  wept.  And 
when  he  had  been  long  sobbing,  behold  again  Iscariot  and  the  band 
of  tall  men,  with  Jesus  in  their  custody,  coming  back.  But  all  the 
disciples  excepting  Peter  and  John,  had  left  Him.  Simon  watched 
Jesus  and  the  multitude  as  they  entered  the  city  gate. 

Then  came  unto  Simon  one  who  said,  “Thou  doest  well  to  weep, 
Cyrenian .  ’  ’ 

Said  Simon,  *  ‘  A  stranger  thou.  Why  do  I  well  to  weep  ?  ’  ’ 


182 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


The  man  answered,  “I  bring  thee  tidings  from  a  friend  of  other 
days,  even  Lampadephorus,  an  Athenian.  Far  from  here  is  he,  and 
hath  been  set  upon  and  wounded  grievous.  ” 

Then  began  the  Jew  to  frown  and  curse.  At  length:  “Shall  I 
commingle  with  the  heathen  as  of  old?  Shall  I  succor  idolaters? 
Shall  I,  prithee,  listen  while  a  man  calleth  false  gods?  I  am  better 
than  thou,  messenger,  and  Lampadephorus  and  all  that  be  as  such, 
for  I  am  son  of  Abraham,  chosen  of  Adonai,  student  of  the  Law.” 

“Lampadephorus  dieth,  ”  saith  the  messenger. 

And  Simon  would  have  put  the  man  away  in  any  case,  saying: 
“Gentiles!  Can  ye  understand  the  thoughts  and  feelings  of  an 
Israelite  ? 9  ’ 

But  the  messenger  would  not  suffer  the  giant  to  go.  He  reminded 
him  of  all  that  his  ancient  teacher  had  done  for  him,  reached  in  his 
scrip  and  gave  unto  him  a  bit  of  bone.  Then  said  he,  “Thou  wast 
bone  of  his  bone :  so  did  thy  friend  declare  I  should  say  unto  thee.  ’  ’ 

Then  the  Jew,  as  in  the  amazement  of  a  great  dream,  taketh  from 
his  own  bosom  (where,  as  a  matter  of  custom,  he  long  hath  carried 
it)  that  other  piece  of  knuckle-bone,  the  counterpart  of  this. 

And  he  looked  at  the  two  for  a  very  long  time,  fitting  them  both 
together  carefully  again  and  yet  another  time,  while  a  melancholy 
smile  of  human  tenderness  parted  his  bigot  lips. 

And  remembering  the  comradeship  of  other  days,  his  soul  yearned 
for  his  master. 

He  therefore  to  the  man  saith,  “Lead  on.” 

They  went  north  of  the  city  to  a  place  where  a  Grecian  temple 
was,  in  ruins.  When  the  messenger  had  departed,  then  found  Simon 
in  the  farthest  corner  of  the  temple,  beside  a  broken  statue  of  Apollo, 
Lampadephorus  of  Athens,  older  by  far  than  in  those  golden  days, 
and  likewise  wasted  and  dying  of  a  deep  wound  near  the  heart. 

Simon  knelt  beside  him  and  kissed  him,  saying:  “Awaken!  O 
awaken !  for  I  am  Samson-Solomon  of  Cyrene,  thine  aforetime  pupil. 
Awaken,  my  Master,  for  lo !  I  am  by.  ’  ’ 

Said  he  that  was  Master  (and  his  eyes  were  changing) :  “Art 
thou  Jesus?” 

“Nay,”  quoth  Simon.  “Of  a  verity,  I  be  not  that  man.” 

“I  have  heard  Jesus,”  said  Lampadephorus,  “and  know  not  what 
to  think.  Half  way  He  hath  persuaded  me.  Thee  too — thou  art 
Samson  of  Cyrene,  whom  I  knew  of  old — thee  also  I  do  not  under¬ 
stand.  Thou  couldst  never  have  half —  But  I  am  thy  friend.  Under- 
standest  thou  me?” 


DIVINE  ASSISTANCE 


183 


Simon  turned  his  head  away,  because  he  could  not  bear  to  see 
Lampadephorus  perishing. 

But  Lampadephorus  said,  “Weep  not;  for  I  am  aged,  and  the 
aged  must  make  room  for  others.  Lo !  I  have  been  dreaming. 
Methought  I  had  turned  to  flaming  ashes  in  an  urn,  while  the  ashes 
of  Jesus  lay  by  in  another.  Thou  didst  stand  near  with  flaming 
brand.  A  youth  greatly  like  unto  me  (he  may  have  been  my  son, 
for  sons  do  return  to  fathers  in  dreams)  came  anigh  with  torch 
unlighted  and  shapen  like  a  criminal’s  cross.  A  wick  leaned  out  at 
the  topmost  part  thereof,  and  yet  one  more  at  each  of  the  ends  of  its 
transverse  beam. 

“And  the  youth  came  to  my  urn,  and  lighted  a  wick  at  one  of 
the  ends  of  the  cross-piece,  then  unto  thee,  and  lighted  yet  another 
at  thy  brand.  Then  on  to  the  flaming  urn  of  Jesus,  where  he  lit  the 
topmost  wick  of  all. 

“Then  ran  he  away,  shouting:  ‘ Salvation!  Salvation  and  great 
light  unto  the  world!’ 

“And  thou  didst  follow  with  thy  brand,  but  saidst  not  anything.” 

And  Simon  would  have  pronounced  to  Lampadephorus  words  of 
comfort,  but  the  Greek  suffered  him  not.  “I  have  been  too  faithful 
unto  Caesar.  Hence — perish.  Soon  they  will  return  to  bury  me. 
Say  not,  but  take  this  parcel  and  deliver  it.  The  governor  at  Caesarea 
— unto  him.  I  had  not  wholly  fulfilled —  Dost  thou  love  me,  Samson- 
Solomon?  He  will  reward— haply  he  shall  give  thee  my  place — as 
under  Caesar — Caesar  Lord  of  All  this  World!  He  repayeth  good — 
evil — it  is  unbeautiful  anyone  should  strive  against  Caesar — this 
world.  ’  ’ 

So  the  ancient  master  of  the  Jew  pulled  slowly  up  his  mantle 
round  about  his  shining  head,  and  was  no  more  seen  of  Simon’s  or 
of  any  other  eye  upon  earth. 

And  Simon  wept  with  a  loud  voice. 

And  he  staid  not,  but  gat  him  out  upon  the  way  to  Caesarea. 

But  behold!  there  was  one  standing  before  him — a  mighty  robber 
with  uplifted  sword,  Barabbas. 

Struck  Barabbas  Simon  of  Cyrene  a  smashing  blow  with  the  flat 
of  his  blade  on  the  head,  so  that  the  giant  of  Cyrenaica  staggered 
and  became  weak. 

Simon  said,  “Stop  me  not.  I  am  on  Caesar’s  business.” 

Laughed  Barabbas.  “What  is  Caesar’s  business?  One  short  hour 
ago  I  was  captive  unto  Caesar  in  Jerusalem.  Now  I  am  free.  A 
destiny  looketh  after  me,  and  I  will  not  perish  till  my  time.” 

Then  Simon,  supplicating:  “I  prithee  let  me  go.  I  am  of  Israel, 


184 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


and  God  knoweth  the  thing  He  would  have  me  to  do,  even  by  the 
word  of  an  Athenian.’ ’ 

“I  also,”  then  said  Barabbas,  “am  an  instrument  of  God’s.”  He 
struck  the  Jew  yet  again,  so  that  Simon,  already  weak,  fell  down 
and  was  as  one  dead.  And  when  he  awoke,  his  message  for  Caesar 
had  been  taken. 

Therefore  Simon  fared  not  unto  the  seacoast,  but  turned  in  the 
way  of  the  Holy  City.  Yet,  as  he  passed  along  the  road,  he  thought: 
“Haply  that  villain,  Barabbas,  spake  better  than  he  knew,  whenas 
he  declared  he  also  was  an  instrument  of  God.  For  behold!  if  the 
governor  at  Caesarea  had  given  me  some  great  reward,  I  might  have 
been  brought  to  enter  Caesar ’s  service,  and  so  have  remained  therein.  ’  ’ 

He  fell  to  pondering  on  all  that  had  been  in  his  life — the  solemn 
fields  and  melancholy  sheep  in  Cyrenaica ;  the  seraph-eyed  Amahnah, 
which  was  Child  of  God;  the  earnest  old  teacher,  the  Chazzan;  the 
captivity  in  the  South ;  the  sneering  mongrel,  Trivialis ;  the  blow  he 
had  given  that  foolish  man;  the  prophetic  dream  he  had  had  in  the 
tomb  of  his  father;  then — the  coming  of  the  bearer  of  the  light,  even 
Lampadephorus,  the  radiant  one,  who  sang  rejoicing.  He  thought  of 
his  early  days  beside  that  shining  Greek,  then  the  seeking  at  Jupiter 
Ammon  for  him  that  resembled  Trivialis,  the  finding  of  the  Man  of 
Evil  in  his  stead,  even  the  lithe  serpent,  Ophidion.  Then,  too, 
of  Crocodilopolis  he  thought,  and  of  Azrikam  (that  embodiment  of 
sinlessness  and  merit)  and  of  that  well-nigh  fatal  conductress  into 
the  Egyptian  abomination  of  abominations,  Emah ;  the  second  journey 
by  the  side  of  Lampadephorus;  the  combat  over  against  Sinai;  the 
parting  in  the  desert  with  the  well  loved  Greek;  the  passing,  at  the 
rear  of  the  harlot’s  caravan,  unto  Petra;  the  helplessness  of  Jeezer 
(that  good  and  intense  old  man)  who  had  recalled  the  ancient 
prophecy  that  there  should  be  no  rest  for  the  sole  of  Solomon’s  foot, 
yea  through  all  the  days  that  he  should  live,  no  rest;  and  then  the 
treachery  of  modest-seeming  Gillul — the  stone,  the  child,  the  inhuman 
sacrifice.  Ah-h!  He  put  his  fingers  in  his  ears.  Then  his  further 
falls  from  righteousness — Shikkuts,  Abaddone ;  the  pirate  ship,  which 
had  been  as  a  rod  to  his  soul;  Apodoter;  the  joyous  Return.  And 
then,  ah  then — the  Law !  0  Adonai,  thy  Law,  thy  Law !  He  thanked 
Adonai  for  that  Law  as  for  some  treasure  without  price.  It  pre¬ 
served  him,  Simon  of  Cyrene,  from  all  idolatry,  that  holy  Law! 
There  should  in  fact  be  no  more  idolatry  in  Israel,  solely  because  of 
the  hedging  and  the  fencing  of  the  myriad-branching  Law. 

As  for  Gentiles — he  made  a  movement  of  utter  contempt. 

Now  when  God  (who  had  already  created  space  and  time — and 


DIVINE  ASSISTANCE 


185 


matter,  which  extendeth  and  endnreth  within  these)  constructed  the 
world  out  of  glowing  chaos  arising  from  a  collision  of  dark  stars  (for 
so  the  philosophers  of  these  days  inform  us  that  the  world  was  made) 
then,  having  beheld,  at  length,  that  the  earth  had  grown  prepared  for 
life,  He  created  primeval  cells  and  set  them  in  the  darkness  of  the 
waters.  And  the  cells  grew  thriftily  in  the  water,  and  greatly  mul¬ 
tiplied  and  developed  into  curious  forms.  And  after  a  time  there 
were  many  cells  that  drew  together,  each  unto  each,  into  wondrous 
agglomerations — perpetual  intermarriages  of  interdependent  flesh 
with  interdependent  flesh.  And  some  of  the  strange  agglomerations 
went  out  upon  the  land,  learning  to  live  there.  And  behold  there 
were  certain  things  which  crept,  and  certain  things  which  swam,  and 
certain  things  which  flew,  and  certain  things  which  walked,  or  ran 
swiftly.  And  among  these  things  were  monstrous  icthyosaurii,  flap¬ 
ping  pterodactyls,  billowy  behemoths  crushing  forests  down  with  inti¬ 
mate  great  roarings;  and,  at  a  later  age,  swinging  in  the  boughs, 
slight,  hairy,  tail-handed  creatures,  whose  little,  ever-shifting,  and 
inquisitive  eyes  were  strangely  prophetic  of  future  sublime  intelli¬ 
gence. 

Then  when  life,  after  certain  “days,”  or  “ages,”  had  prepared 
a  body  and  an  intelligence  sufficient  unto  the  spirit,  then  entered  the 
spirit  of  the  Lord  into  an  union  with  that  body,  and  so  had  been 
created — Adam.  And  Adam  carried  the  image  of  the  Lord  within 
him,  but,  for  that  he  had  come  up  out  of  the  earth,  he  was  called 
of  the  Lord  “The  Ked  Soil,”  which  is  to  say  “Adam.”  It  is  all  so 
written  in  the  Great  Allegory  which  stands  at  the  beginning  of  The 
Book. 

And  unto  Adam  was  given  Chavvah. 

And,  later,  the  slippery  serpent  (father  in  after  times  of  many 
an  Ophidion)  did  seduce  Chavvah  and  Adam  to  sin. 

Then  were  sons  and  daughters  born  unto  Chavvah  and  unto  Adam, 
and  the  world  was  filled  with  the  sons  and  the  daughters,  and  idolatry 
was  rife,  for  the  sons  and  daughters  of  the  Woman  and  the  Man, 
had  forgotten  God. 

There  arose  thenafter  an  avenging  flood.  But  certain  ones  (for 
this,  that  they  of  all  the  multitude  had  not  forgotten  God)  were  saved 
from  the  deluge.  And  yet  the  sons  and  the  daughters  of  the  saved 
became  also,  in  turn,  idolaters.  Then  the  Lord  chose  Israel  to  be 
as  a  priestly  nation  unto  the  whole  world,  that  the  world  might  not 
again  forget  Jehovah. 

And  the  Lord  said  unto  the  priestly  nation,  “I  will  scatter  thee 
and  yet  preserve  thee,  and  will  also  school  thee  closely.  And  behold, 


186 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


I  have  set  me  a  purpose  in  thy  preservation  and  in  thy  scattering 
and  in  thy  schooling.  Also  I  have  me  a  purpose  in  this,  that  I  have 
chosen  thee,  and  not  some  other  people.  And  shouldst  thou  fail  in 
my  purpose,  then  will  I  send  unto  thee  Assistance,  that  the  purpose 
may  be  fully  accomplished.”  And  these  things  declared  He  to  them 
in  divers  ways  and  manners. 

Now  there  was,  in  the  mind  of  Simon  of  Cyrene,  as  he  strode 
wearily  in  the  way  toward  Jerusalem,  no  knowledge  at  all  either  of 
dragging  icthyosaurii  or  of  flapping  pterodactyls,  nor  yet  of  the 
ways  of  the  Lord  about  matter,  whereby  He  doth  follow  the  course 
of  each  and  every  atom  through  its  consociations  and  disattachments — 
inexpressible  journeys  in  our  not-to-be-comprehended  space  and  time. 
But  only  a  love  of  the  Lord  was  in  melancholy  Simon,  a  soulful  yearn¬ 
ing  to  behold  El-Shaddai  in  the  flesh — an  ineffable  longing  which  he 
kept  hour  after  hour  in  trembling  leash  (as  one  who  knoweth  the 
sacred  dangers  of  too  great  love)  in  leash  and  check  by  ceaseless, 
infinitesimal  conning  of  the  oral  Law.  Therein  safety!  “Oh  the 
Law,  the  Law!  I  thank  thee,  my  Jehovah,  for  the  Law!  It  bringeth 
out  of  darkness  unto  salvation.  Let  the  Peoples  know  thy  myriad 
regulations  after  us,  the  Jews,  and  so  rejoice.” 

Now,  as  Simon  came  anigh  unto  the  City,  the  walls  thereof  drew 
out  into  plainer  and  plainer  view,  also  the  Tower  of  Antonia,  the 
Temple,  the  multitudes  of  booths  and  tents — over  beyond  Kedron, 
and  likewise  westward  of  the  City,  also  northward,  in  his  own  way, 
where  the  rock  Scopas  was. 

And  while  he  gazed  specially  on  the  flaming,  if  tiny,  garments — 
yellow  and  red,  silver,  sapphire,  and  amethystine — of  many  that  were 
standing  on  the  city  walls,  he  thought  again  on  Jesus,  and  on  Jesus’s 
many  miracles,  but  more  about  that  marvelous  Master’s  opposition 
to  the  scribes  and  Pharisees,  and  to  the  various  hedge-like  forms  which 
had  come  from  the  learned  lips  of  the  like  men.  He,  Simon,  had,  in 
a  way,  rejected  Jesus  (had  he  not?).  Yet,  like  Lampadephorus,  he 
had  not  known  precisely  what  to  think  of  Jesus.  Surely  the  man 
had  spoken  as  never  spake  man  before.  Surely,  also,  a  mighty  sword 
had  been  a  far  better — 

But  his  eye  was  caught  by  a  commotion  among  those  flaming 
multitudes  which,  strangely  enough,  were  standing  on  the  city  walls, 
and  all  of  which  were  gazing  intently  down  on  a  sight  that  yet  was 
well  within  the  city,  but  which,  as  Simon  believed,  was  moving  nearer 
and  yet  nearer  in  the  way  of  the  northern  gate — that  gate  which 
now  he  was  fast  approaching. 


DIVINE  ASSISTANCE 


187 


The  gate  burst  open  with  a  mighty  clangor,  while  a  rolling  cloud 
of  thick  dust  boiled  on  out  therethrough. 

After  a  little  time,  the  man  perceived  in  the  dim  center  of  the 
heaving  storm  and  earth-hell  uproar,  a  curious  kind  of  executional 
procession. 

Foremost  was  a  body  of  whirling  men,  who  danced  ahead  and  then 
danced  back,  casting  vehement  arms  as  if  possessed  of  Satan. 

Behind  came  a  herald,  blowing  a  confused  trumpet. 

Next  was  a  band  of  Roman  soldiers,  steady  in  scarlet  and  brass. 

Then,  in  the  midst  of  the  huge  vortex  of  human  and  inhuman 
uproar — the  one  fixed  point  in  the  dusty  chaos  and  whirlwind — were 
three  drear  victims,  one  of  these  staggering  and  each  with  a  cross 
upon  his  shoulder.  There  was  plainly  Dysmas ;  another,  Gestas.  The 
one  that  staggered  and  almost  fell,  who —  What  was  it  that  cast 
an  unearthly  radiance  all  about — transfiguring  the  City,  the  land, 
the  contaminating  crosses,  even  the  hot,  vociferant  multitude  and 
the  soldiers  of  detestable  Rome? 

He  drew  a  little  nearer  still,  and  beheld — 

No— yes — nay.  Yes,  it  was  truly — Jesus. 

He  rubbed  his  eyes  and  again  peered— stared  with  starting  orbs 
at  Him  who  formed  the  gray-gowned  pivot  of  this  unshackled  and 
ex-sequestered  portion  of  hell:  this  staggering,  swaggering,  running 
all  about;  this  shaking  of  horrible  fists  and  shrieking  yet  more 
hideous  anathemas  —  tradesmen,  beggars,  scholars,  apprentices, 
agriculturists,  priests — shakers  and  shriekers  all  united  in  the 
common  elements  of  blood-lust  and  the  dust.  In  the  center,  Jesus. 
Of  that  there  could  be  no  doubt.  Jesus,  humble  as  the  trodden 
soil  beneath  his  feet,  yet  of  a  strangely  infinite  majesty,  eyes  like 
heavenly  lights  a-shining  in  the  darkness  and  moral  chaos. 

Ah,  Rabbi  Jesus,  thou  that  hast  spoken  to  my  heart,  that  hast 
seemed  to  possess  within  thee  the  strength  of  all  the  inexpugnable 
hosts  of  heaven!  Art  thou,  then,  Adonai?  Messias?  the  conquering 
Son  of  God?  And  goest  the  way  of  shameful  sinners  unto  incom- 
miserable  death  and  the  worm? 

His  heart  grew  wild  then,  and  a  strange,  thick  compulsion  seized 
upon  him,  so  that,  although,  as  he  thought,  it  were  better  by  far 
for  a  man  like  him — a  whole  head  higher  than  any  other  in  that 
multitude — to  have  passed  around  below  the  eastward  wall  and  the 
Temple  and  so  to  have  got  within  the  city  unobserved,  yet  still  he 
fared  onward,  nigher  and  nigher  to  the  victims  and  the  troops,  espe¬ 
cially  unto  Jesus. 

He  had  come  quite  near,  and  saw  that  Jesus  was  again  staggering, 


188 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


that  the  Master  carried  the  upright  portion  of  the  cross  over  His 
right  shoulder,  both  bleeding  hands  locked  prayerfully  about  it,  so 
that  one  of  the  halves  of  the  transverse  beam  lay  close  and  tight 
against  His  heart.  The  far  end  of  the  upright  dragged  along  the 
ground  behind  Him.  Yet,  even  so,  the  strength  of  Jesus  was  nearly 
exhausted. 

Jesus  once  more  staggered,  stumbled  a  time  or  two,  and  fell. 
Simon  all  at  once  perceived  that  he  had  foreseen  these  matters  from 
his  childhood.  And  he  was  filled  with  a  great  fear. 

Certain  of  the  soldiers  ran  to  him,  and  catching  him  by  the  waist 
said:  “Come  thou,  Jewish  hog!  Take  up  the  cross V’ 

Shouted  Simon,  in  fear  and  rage :  “Cross!  Contamination!  For 
a  Jew!  A  cross !” 

He  would  have  resisted  the  soldiers  unto  the  uttermost,  but  that 
Jesus,  who  had  again  arisen,  looked  straight  upon  him  with  eyes  of 
ecstasy. 

And  it  seemed  to  Simon  that  J esus  might  have  uttered  one  single, 
soft,  sweet  word,  and  that  that  was — Bear. 

Bear? 

Had  he  only  imagined  the  word,  or  had  Jesus  in  fact  pronounced 
it? 

A  grave,  unearthly  singing  filled  his  ears.  All  the  thoughts  and 
doings  of  his  life  appeared  to  arrange  themselves  in  some  bright, 
perfect  pattern,  set  upon  them  suddenly  from  above. 

He  would  have  cried  out  unto  Jesus,  “Kabbi!  Master!  Thou 
that  art  the  Son  of  God!”  but  that  his  lips  were  holden.  So  he 
answered  only  by  lifting  up  the  cross. 

Ah,  happy,  and  yet  forever  hated,  Simon  of  Cyrene!  Happy  in 
that  one  infinite  second  of  earth-sequestered  time !  Splendidest  per¬ 
sonage  in  all  finite,  all  merely  human,  history!  For  thou  alone  of 
them  that  were  born  of  the  daughters  of  men,  couldst  take  over  upon 
thine  own  and  only-elected  shoulders  the  redeeming  cross  of  Christ. 
Others  have  also  borne  our  Savior ’s  cross  up  the  steep,  rugged,  blood- 
soaked  Calvary  of  Time,  thine  own  dear  people,  the  children  of  the 
flesh  of  Father  Abraham,  in  especial.  But  thou — thou — 

“Onward!  As  we  said  in  the  court,  His  blood  be  on  our  heads 
and  on  our  children ’s.  Onward !  To  the  place  of  a  skull !  Crucify 
Him!” 

So  they  mounted  up  the  hill.  Jesus  led  the  way,  in  the  midst  of 
the  flux,  reflux,  and  perpetual  intermotion.  Simon,  as  he  followed, 
was  scourged  in  the  place  of  Jesus. 


DIVINE  ASSISTANCE 


189 


“Onward!  Crucify  Him!  His  blood!  We  are  bonded  unto 
His  death!  His  blood!” 

The  vanguard  stopped  at  the  vertex  of  the  hill,  and  formed  a 
hollow  square  about  the  place  of  execution,  while  there  raged  round 
the  impassive  soldiers  an  innumerable  multitude,  insomuch  that  they 
trode  on  one  another’s  heels. 

Simon  gat  him  without  the  square,  and  stood  a  little  in  the  way 
of  Bethany  from  Jesus.  The  city  with  its  scarlet  and  yellow  peoples 
on  the  walls,  the  golden-snowy  Temple  high  above  the  green-taber¬ 
nacled  houses,  and  the  stone-gray  prison  of  Antony — these  made  a 
mighty  back-scene  for  the  awful  terrors  of  the  day. 

Certain  of  the  soldiers  placed  the  crosses  on  the  ground,  stripped 
the  men,  and  laid  them  down  along  the  crosses. 

The  crowd  fell  silent,  and  Simon  imagined  he  heard  the  watch¬ 
man,  in  the  tower  at  the  Gate  of  the  Gardens,  cry :  *  ‘  The  third  hour, 
and  all  is  well,  all  well.” 

Now  the  hands  and  feet  of  Dysmas  and  Gestas  (who  were  lying, 
the  one  upon  the  right,  the  other  to  the  left,  of  Jesus)  were  bound 
to  the  crosses  with  leathern  thongs,  but  the  legionary  who  saw  to  these 
matters,  when  he  had  come  to  Jesus,  took  nails  and  hammer,  and 
quoth,  levitously:  “Unus — duo — tres!  Now  the  left  hand.  Next 
the  feet.  So  we  have  thee,  thou  Son  of  God. 1  *  And  the  chief  priests 
and  the  peoples,  and  all  the  scribes  and  Pharisees  cried  out:  “He 
saith  he  was  the  Son  of  God.  Vah /” 

The  soldiers  lifted  up  the  crosses,  and  shot  them  into  the  holes 
which  had  been  prepared  for  them.  The  space  about  the  holes  was 
filled  and  tamped  solid.  “May  ye  be  damned  forever!”  cried  the 
thieves,  suffering  intolerably.  But  Jesus  merely  said,  referring  also 
to  the  soldiers:  “Father,  forgive  them;  for  they  know  not  what 
they  do.” 

And  these  were  the  first  of  the  words  which  Jesus  spake  upon 
the  cross. 

“Jesus,”  said  Simon  in  his  heart,  “dost  thou  forgive!” 

He  looked  with  amazement  up  to  the  eyes  of  Him  that  hung  upon 
the  midmost  cross.  But  when  he  had  beheld  the  expression  with 
which  Jesus  looked  back  down  upon  him,  he  thought  that  all  the 
world  was  clothed  with  a  garment  of  sweet  music  and  majesty. 

“Dost  thou  forgive,  0  Jesus?”  There  came  into  his  heart  the 
recollection  of  his  own  fond  scheme  of  revenge.  Then  also  a  whisper, 
saying :  i  1  Thou  Simon  of  Cyrene !  Long  have  I  sought  thee  in  J eru- 
salem,  and  now — ” 


190 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


Simon,  turning,  beheld  Ardelio,  the  busy-body  and  mischief- 
maker  of  this  world. 

Saith  Ardelio,  ‘  ‘  I  bring  to  thee  an  opportunity  of  much  revenge.  ’  * 

“Revenge !”  Simon  looketh  yet  again  up  to  Jesus.  Then  once 
more  at  the  captain  of  the  ship,  which  had  brought  him  news  of  the 
Mocker,  Trivialis. 

1  ‘  Revenge !  ’  ’ 

“Aye,  surely,  revenge.  Why  sayest  thou  ‘Revenge’  as  thou  hadst 
never  before  known  the  meaning  of  ‘revenge’?  Behold!  I  have  seen 
thine  enemy.  He  dwelleth  in  Athens,  liveth  luxuriously,  hath  useful 
knowledge  which  he  came  by  from  thy  father,  in  no  small  measure  thy 
father’s  moneys  also,  doeth,  in  a  word,  the  thing  which  liketh  him, 
whatsoever  it  may  be,  while  thou  who  art  surely  entitled  to  those 
moneys  (as  well  as  others  whom  I  know)  thou,  I  take  it,  art  under 
some  strain  of  compulsion.” 

“Revenge!”  quoth  Simon  yet  again,  like  one  lost  in  dreams. 

“Why,  man,  verily — revenge.  Why  still  sayest  thou  ‘revenge’  so 
foolishly?  Knowest  not  what  revenge  is?  Hast  recollection?  Dost 
thou  not — ” 

But  Simon  placeth  a  finger  to  his  lips.  Then  he  whispereth,  “I 
love  that  mocker,  Trivialis.” 

‘  ‘  Love — love  Trivialis !  ’  ’ 

And  the  heart  of  Simon  had  indeed  been  purified  by  Jesus  until 
the  Crucifer  beheld  that  he  had  wanted  the  blood  of  Trivialis  for 
his  own  private  gratifying,  as  well  as  for  the  love  of  Abraham.  Simon 
felt,  were  Trivialis  here  at  the  cross,  he  might  have  kissed  that  man, 
even  as  he  would  have  kissed  Amahnah  or  the  children.  For  he 
remembered  the  little  camels  out  of  clay,  which  the  Mocker  had  made 
for  his  infant  hands  in  Cyrenaica,  likewise  did  recall  that  troubled 
dream  within  another  and  yet  more  troubled  dream  which  he  had 
dreamt  in  Edom,  wherein  he  had  thought  that  he  had  killed  the  man 
which  had  plucked  a  deadly  serpent  from  his  neck.  So  here,  at  the 
foot  of  the  tree,  the  Crucifer  sought,  in  his  whole  heart,  forgiveness, 
even  of  Christ,  for  that  he  had  hated  his  enemy.  Jesus  looked  upon 
Simon  with  compassion,  and  it  appeared  to  that  man  as  if  all  the 
voices  in  the  universe  were  saying,  in  glory:  “This  is  He!  Jesus! 
This  is  very  God,  spirit  of  forgiveness  and  love.” 

But  Ardelio  saith,  “Revenge!  Thine  enemy!  Believest  thou  on 
Jesus,  0  fool?  The  fellow  hath  been  rejected  of  official  Israel,  of 
the  very  High  Priest  himself.  Canst  thou  not  comprehend  as  to 
Trivialis?  A  chance,  opportunity.  The  Mongrel  still  doth  scoff  at 


DIVINE  ASSISTANCE  191 

thy  religion.  Still  he  hangeth  about  the  wine-shops,  the  women,  still 
he  squandereth — ” 

But  Simon  gave  Ardelio  all  the  moneys  which  were  hidden  upon 
his  person,  and  which  Barabbas  had  not  found  upon  him,  and  which 
was  more  than  Simon  had  ever  promised.  And  Ardelio  went  his  way. 

And  Simon,  turning  yet  again,  beheld  that  the  soldiers  had  parted 
the  garments  of  the  Lord  among  them,  and  that,  above  each  thief 
was  suspended  a  board  whereon  was  written  “f-u-r,  ”  while  over  the 
central  cross  another  had  been  hung  which,  in  Latin,  Greek,  and 
Hebrew,  ran:  “ Jesus  of  Nazareth  the  King  of  the  Jews.” 

Then  raged  the  Pharisees,  with  Parush  at  their  head,  and  many 
chief  priests  also,  crying:  “King!  He  is  not  our  King!  Have  we 
not  said  to  Pilate,  We  have  no  king  but  Cassar?  And  now  hath  Pilate 
mocked  us  so!” 

Some  of  the  chief  priests  ran,  saying :  “We  will  speak  unto  Pilate 
about  this  matter;  for  he  ought  to  have  said,  not  This  is  Jesus  the 
King  of  the  Jews,  but  that  he  said  I  am  King  of  the  Jews.” 

But  they  that  remained  passed  round  about  the  cross  of  Jesus, 
wagging  their  heads  and  crying :  ‘  ‘  Thou  that  clestroyest  the  temple, 
and  buildest  it  in  three  days,  save  thyself  and  come  down  from  the 
cross.”  And  some  of  the  scribes  also  jeered,  “He  saved  others;  him¬ 
self  he  cannot  save.”  Others  still,  “Let  Christ  the  King  of  Israel 
descend  now  from  the  cross,  that  we  may  see  and  believe.”  And 
the  hollow  square  was  broken  up,  that  they  which  railed  might  get 
nearer  to  the  cross. 

One  of  the  malefactors  which  were  hanged  beside  Jesus,  railed 
upon  Him  also,  saying :  “If  thou  be  Christ,  save  thyself  and  us. ’ ’ 
But  the  other  (which  was  Dysmas)  answering,  rebuked  him,  saying: 
‘  ‘  Dost  not  thou  fear  God,  seeing  thou  art  in  the  same  condemnation  ? 
And  we  indeed  justly ;  for  we  received  the  due  reward  of  our  deeds : 
but  this  man  hath  done  nothing  amiss.”  And  he  said  unto  Jesus, 
after  a  time:  “Lord,  remember  me  when  thou  comest  into  thy  king¬ 
dom.”  Jesus  then:  “Verily,  I  say  unto  thee,  Today  shalt  thou  be 
with  me  in  Paradise.” 

Thought  Simon,  while  he  looked  upon  the  crucifixion  of  both  types 
of  revenge:  “Art  thou,  0  Gentile,  saved,  while  thou,  Gestas,  which 
art  a  child  of  Abraham,  art  thou  still  impenitent  ?  And  are  my  peo¬ 
ple  forever  to  reject  thee,  0  Jesus,  even  the  chief  priests  and  the 
very  scribes  and  Pharisees?” 

But  behold,  there  were  those  of  the  priests  which  had  run  unto 
Pilate,  which  now  were  coming  back.  They  cried  from  a  great  dis¬ 
tance,  “The  Governor  saith,  ‘What  I  have  written  I  have  written.’  ” 


192 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


And  the  air  was  filled  with  wild  lamentations,  shonts  of  hate, 
and  execrations  both  upon  Pilate  and  upon  Jesus.  But  certain  of 
the  common  people  murmured,  saying:  “ Surely  the  Man  was  Lord 
and  God.” 

The  multitude  drew  back  yet  further  from  the  crosses,  because 
they  feared  the  priests  and  the  scribes  and  Pharisees.  But  the 
soldiers  sate  beneath  the  crosses,  shaking  dice  and  swearing. 

Then  cometh  Parush  to  Simon,  and  seeing  compassion  in  that 
man’s  countenance,  saith  unto  him:  “Many  there  be  in  this  multi¬ 
tude  which  believe  on  Jesus.  Art  thou  also  turned  idolater?” 

Simon  said,  trembling:  “I  am  not  an  idolater.” 

But  Parush  said,  “Yet  I  see  thou  hast  at  least  a  certain  acquain¬ 
tance  with  the  Nazarene — hast  borne  His  cross.” 

And  Simon,  even  as  that  other  Simon,  surnamed  Peter,  on  the 
night  before  had  done,  denied  his  Lord,  saying:  “Nay,  but  I  know 
Him  not  at  all,  having  merely  heard  of  Him,  and,  as  for  bearing  His 
cross,  I  have  not  borne  it.  By  the  gold  that  is  in  the  Temple,  I  have 
borne  it  not  at  all.” 

Then  declared  Parush,  “All  the  world  did  see  thee.  I  believe 
thou  art  an  idolater.” 

And  Simon’s  heart  was  an-hardened  with  a  sudden  fear,  lest 
indeed  he  should  again  have  become  an  idolater.  He  murmured, 
“It  was  another  man.”  But  inwardly  he  thought:  “I  must  settle 
this  matter  as  about  idolatry  at  my  more  leisure,  for  surely  the  Lord 
our  God  is  but  one.  And  yet  I  know  not  how  this  Jesus — ” 

And  the  Pharisee  of  Pharisees,  even  Parush,  had  gone  his  way, 
with  contempt  and  threatenings  in  his  stride.  But  certain  of  the 
women — Jesus’s  mother,  and  Mary  the  wife  of  Cleophas,  and  Mary 
Magdalene — these,  together  with  the  disciple  named  John,  had  come 
up  close  about  the  cross. 

And  J esus,  when  he  had  seen  them  sobbing,  said  unto  His  mother  : 
“Woman,  behold  thy  son!”  And  unto  the  disciple,  “Behold  thy 
mother !” 

And  it  was  nearing  the  middle  of  the  day,  and  the  crowd  waxed 
thicker  over  all  the  neighboring  houses  and  hills.  The  chief  priests 
and  the  scribes  (with  Parush  at  their  head)  railed  on,  with  ever 
louder  and  more  discordant  voices.  From  time  to  time,  in  a  lulling 
of  the  storm  of  cries,  there  burst  forth  again  the  sobs  of  the  women 
round  about  the  cross,  or  imprecations  of  the  soldiers,  or  words  of 
low  compassion  from  the  tremulous  multitude. 

Simon  stood  at  a  little  distance  from  the  cross  in  the  way  of 
Bethany,  pondering  both  on  Parush  and  on  Jesus.  “Had  this  man 


DIVINE  ASSISTANCE 


193 


come  with  a  sword!  I  might  indeed  have  believed  on  Jesus — had 
He  come  with  a  sword,  had  He  come  with  a  sword.’ ’ 

But  he  somehow  felt  also  that,  even  in  that  case,  he  might  not 
have  changed.  “Ah,  Adonai,  Adonai,  thou  hast  made  me  what  I  am. 
Can  a  hill  of  marble  (which  is  like  to  a  Jew)  of  itself  make  any 
change  within  its  being  ?  ’  ’ 

He  noticed  that  the  shadow  of  the  great  cross,  as  it  moved  from 
the  westward  unto  the  east,  had  shortened  and  was  drawing  anigh 
unto  him  (as  though  it  were  the  gnomon  of  an  immense  sundial) 
until  at  length  it  lay  out  straight  and  black  and  sharp  before  his 
straining  vision — from  the  bloody  feet  of  Jesus  to  his  own.  Was  it 
merely  a  fancy,  or  did  this  shadow  of  the  Great  Contamination 
pause — as  if  the  sun  itself  would  have  lingered  upon  the  hour,  have 
emphasized  it  utterly?  To  Simon  it  seemed  that  the  shadow  of  the 
cross  he  had  borne  was  pointing  him  out  as  Christ’s  crucifer  unto 
all  the  world,  unto  all  its  unending  generations. 

A  single  name  escaped  the  Cyrenian’s  lips — Jesus. 

And  later,  he  questioned  again:  “Who  art  thou,  in  fact,  Jesus?” 

Jesus,  looking  down  upon  the  man,  as  if  by  way  of  answer,  per¬ 
mitted  this  His  crucifer  to  gaze  within  His  soul.  But  what  the 
bearer  of  Christ’s  cross  beheld  there,  he  would  never  believe,  so  long 
as  he  remained  on  earth. 

And  some  of  the  soldiers  shouted,  as  they  drank  their  wine,  being 
a-drunken:  “Here’s  to  thee,  now,  King  of  the  Jews.”  Then  again, 
among  other  matters:  “Wilt  thou  not  take  a  little  vinegar  on  a 
sponge  by  way  of  drinking  back  to  us?  Here,  thou  Son  of  God!” 

And  a  great  darkness  fell  upon  the  earth,  and  silence  thereafter, 
so  that  the  multitude  did  hear  the  cry  of  the  watchman  in  his  room 
above  the  city  gate:  “The  sixth  hour:  all  is  well.” 

And  Simon  believed  that  he  saw  Jesus,  in  the  darkness,  turn  and 
look  at  the  gathering  stars.  One  after  another  considered  He  them, 
as  if,  time  after  time,  He  might  have  dwelt  upon  a  many  of  them. 
And  Simon  began  to  think  once  more,  as  he  had  thought  in  the  body 
of  the  Babylonia,  on  that  saying  of  Anaxagoras,  which  saith  that 
many  of  the  stars  are  worlds  like  this  one,  and  that  they  may  per¬ 
chance  be  inhabited  by  people  of  like  passions  with  ourselves.  Were 
there,  then,  Jews  there?  Priests?  Any  highest  priest  of  all?  Suf¬ 
fering?  Sin?  A  necessary  Savior? 


13 


194 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


CHAPTER  XXVI 
The  Wine  House 

Now,  meanwhile,  Ophidion  had  been  faring  to  and  fro  in  the 
streets  of  Jerusalem,  hating,  listening,  whispering,  suggesting,  setting 
into  the  great  world  currents  of  evil  thought  and  all  manner  of  mis¬ 
deeds.  Some  of  those  currents  are  moving  about  until  this  day. 

And  he  came,  in  his  wanderings,  to  a  wine-house  which  was  in 
the  lower  city,  a  vile  resort  kept  by  a  woman  called  Cupiditas.  And 
Ophidion  being  desirous  (for  a  time)  of  great  forgetfulness  from 
his  own  sins,  enter eth  the  shop. 

There  he  seeth  an  idle  companion,  whom  he  knoweth  well  of  late, 
Compotor,  as  well  as  Microtes  and  Aletis  and  Antipetros,  and  like¬ 
wise  other  sons  of  mere  tumult  and  harm.  And  there  were  also 
twain  philosophers  who  sate  in  a  corner  apart. 

The  sons  of  tumult  cried  aloud,  when  they  beheld  Ophidion,  ‘‘Hail 
to  thee,  Sarcogenes!  Sarcogenes,  all  hail  to  thee!” — for  Ophidion 
had  changed  his  name  (since  he  had  become,  for  purposes  of  his  own, 
a  follower  of  Jesus)  from  “Ophidion”  to  “Sarcogenes,”  which  is  to 
say  “One  That  is  Born  of  the  Flesh.”  “For,”  said  he,  “I  would 
not  be  called  ‘a  lesser  serpent’  any  longer,  the  followers  of  Jesus 
objecting  strangely  to  that  appellation,  and,  as  for  the  flesh,  the 
flesh  is  good  enough.”  In  his  heart,  he  thought  that  neither  could 
any  other  man  believe  that  there  is  harm  at  all  in  the  flesh. 

So  he  standeth  within  the  entrance  for  a  time  (resembling,  to 
one  who  looked  not  deeply,  a  great  bright  angel)  gazing  the  company 
over  to  see  if  it  were  just  to  his  liking,  and  what  he  might  do  with  it. 

Then  the  sons  of  tumult  cry  again,  “Hail  to  thee,  Sarcogenes!” 

The  man  answered  majestically,  “Hail!” 

And  they  were  glad  to  be  companioned  by  him,  for  they  knew  of 
his  authority  with  Pontius  Pilate,  and,  thereby,  the  Lord  of  All  this 
World,  even  Cassar. 

So  they  made  a  great  room  for  him  at  the  table,  and  he,  when 
he  had  gone  and  whispered  to  the  keeper  of  the  house,  even  Cupiditas, 
came  and  sate  down  with  the  sons  of  tumult. 

They  drank  and  drank  again.  And  still  again  they  drank. 

Then  said  Sarcogenes,  picking  up  a  goblet  wherein  were  many 
dead  flies:  “I  will  bet  any  of  you  that  in  this  cup  there  be  either 
odd  or  even  flies.”  Some  said  unto  him,  “Odd.” 

He  answered,  “Even.” 


DIVINE  ASSISTANCE 


195 


So  they  laid  out  their  moneys,  and  counted  the  flies.  And  behold, 
the  flies  were  even.  And  Sarcogenes  took  the  money. 

But  then  the  great  one  said,  “  Yonder,  on  another  table,  is  another 
cup,  wherein  also  are  flies.  Let  us  once  more  bet,  but,  this  time, 
twice  the  money.  ’  ’ 

They  bet,  and  the  flies  were  counted,  and  the  money  was  that  of 
Sarcogenes. 

Then  said  the  sons  of  tumult,  “Let  us  bet  again,  that  we  may 
at  length  beat  thee.  Yonder  are  still  more  flies.  And  see,  we  will 
wager  ten  times  more  than  that  which  we  did  wager  last,  and  we 
will  finally  beat  thee.  And  all  shall  carefully  count  the  flies,  that 
there  shall  be  no  mistake.” 

Sarcogenes  said,  “Odd.” 

The  flies  were  counted,  and  they  were  even.  But  just  as  the  sons 
of  tumult  would  have  taken  up  the  moneys,  behold  there  came  yet 
another  fly,  which  dropped  down  upon  the  pile  of  flies,  and,  dying, 
was  counted  to  his  own  gain  by  Sarcogenes. 

Then  uprose  Microtes,  shouting:  “Thou  hast  cheated!  See! 
Thou  art  Beelzebub,  the  King  of  Flies!  And  the  flies  do  obey  thee, 
and  die  for  thee!” 

There  came  in  the  face  of  Sarcogenes  a  look  both  of  amazement 
and  horror.  He  beat  the  small  one  out  of  the  wine-house,  and,  return¬ 
ing,  sate  down  angrily  at  the  table. 

Then  entered  yet  another  man,  a  certain  servitor  of  Sarcogenes, 
saying  unto  him:  “Thou  didst  come  before  me  hither.” 

“Yea,”  cried  Sarcogenes,  “and  I  will  beat  thee  hence.” 

And  so  he  did,  with  a  dagger,  giving  him  deep  and  grievous 
wounds. 

And  Sarcogenes  went  and  stood  in  a  corner  apart,  where  a  deep 
shadow  was,  and  the  other  companions  of  the  drinking  counted  flies 
for  long  in  silence,  or  sate  merely  whispering. 

But  one  of  the  twain  philosophers  saith  (that  he  might  break 
silence)  “I  hear  that  this  man,  Jesus,  is  being  crucified.” 

“Yea,”  saith  the  other,  “even  now  he  hangeth  upon  the  cross. 
He  saith  that  this  is  necessary  to  save  men  from  sin.” 

“Sin!”  cried  the  first  philosopher.  “Now  what  is  sin?  There 
is  no  such  thing  at  all  as  sin,  say  I.  It  is  only  an  invention  of  the 
Jews,  sin.  The  Greeks  know  more  than  the  Jews,  and  they  know 
there  is  no  such  thing  as  sin.  Besides,  I  can  show  this  all  to  be  true 
by  philosophy  and  by  all  the  learning  of  all  the  schools — Athens, 
Antioch,  Alexandria — 1 7 

But  a  doctor  who  had  just  entered  the  wine-shop,  brake  in  upon 


196 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


him:  “Thou  sayest  truly  there  is  no  such  thing  as  sin.  I  have 
never  dissected  a  human  body  (as  some  have  done  in  Alexandria) 
but  I  have  dissected  apes  and  cattle,  and  in  none  of  these  (either 
in  any  of  the  organs  or  in  the  chinks  between  those  organs)  was 
there  ever  any  sin.” 

Said  the  first  philosopher,  “Thou  talkest  as  a  fool.  Thoughtest 
thou  to  find  sin  in  the  shape  of  a  thing  to  be  caught  between  the 
fingers  and  pinched?  Is  sin  a  gall-stone?  Is  it  a  solid  concretion  of 
the  stomach?  Is  it  any  secernment  at  all,  or  excretion,  or  any  kind 
of  flesh  or  piece  of  bone?  Pah!  There  is  no  sin — in  that  thou 
speakest  truly — but  thou  shouldest  know  metaphysic  to  be  able  to 
prove  it. — What  sayest  thou,  Compotor?  Is  there  such  a  thing 
as  sin?” 

“Yes,”  said  the  man  so  spoken  unto,  “I  say  that  there  is  sin. 
Let  be  a  moment,  and  I  will — hie — enlighten  thee.  Now,  if  I  do  a 
wrong  to  thee,  that  is  an  offense,  a  damage,  unto  thee.  Yet  it  is  also 
a  crime  unto  the  state,  and  a  sin  unto  God.  So  I  say  there  is  such 
a  thing  as  sin. — But  what — hie — doth  it  matter?  We  can  easily  get 
rid  of  sin.  A  sacrifice  or  so;  a  white  sheep,  a  good  fat  calf — all  is 
well.  And  then  we  are  free — hie — to  sin  again.  Thou  spakest  even 
now  of  Jesus — ” 

“What  sayest  thou,  Sarcogenes,”  said  then  the  first  philosopher, 
“is  there  any  such  thing  as  sin?  Need  any  man  a  savior?  Need  he, 
in  especial,  Jesus — ” 

“No,”  cried  the  tall  one  in  a  voice  of  thunder.  “Fools!  Sin? 
Follow  your  own  natures !  Nature  cannot  mislead  you.  Your  appe¬ 
tites  will  teach  you  rightness  in  all  things.  What  is  natural  cannot 
be  sinful,  nay  nor  in  anywise  hurtful.  Ye  are  all  fools  that  ye  do 
even  discuss  such  matters.” 

But  a  fool  in  another  corner  saith  unto  them,  “I  had  once  a 
brother  who  followed  his  natural  appetites,  committing  thereby  both 
adultery  and  murder.  Said  he  unto  Pilate  at  his  trial,  ‘ Pardon: 
it  was  nature/  Said  Pilate,  ‘It  is  also  nature  that  I  execute  thee.’ 
He  is  gone — a  cross — why  doth  it  darken?” 

And  there  entered  the  wine-house  one  that  cursed  and  gnashed 
his  teeth,  but,  when  he  had  seen  Sarcogenes,  became  high  respectful. 
Sarcogenes  led  him  a  little  way  apart.  The  two  drank  deeply  at  a 
table  together. 

“Thou  art  late,”  said  then  Sarcogenes,  so  that  none  other  in 
the  room  might  hear. 

“I  did  try  to  follow  thee  for  long,”  the  man  saith,  “but  ever  and 


DIVINE  ASSISTANCE 


197 


again  thou  seemedst  to  dissolve  into  nothing.  Even  now  came  I  hither 
by  accident — to  drown  mine  anger  and  my  doubt.” 

‘  ‘  Thine  anger — thy  doubt !  ’  * 

“  Anger  for  that  a  certain  Simon  of  Cyrene,  for  whose  sake  I  had 
learned  the  whereabouts  of  a  certain  enemy  of  his,  would  not,  when 
that  I  had  brought  him  tidings  back,  consent  to  listen.  Said  he,  ‘I 
love  that  man.’  What  thinkest  thou,  that  any  man  should  love  his 
enemy?  And  doubt — for  that — this  teacher — Jesus —  Why  dost 
thou  look  so  strangely  ?  Pray,  be  still — or  look  some  other  way  from 
me.  I  cannot  endure  thee  when  thou  lookest  so.” 

Then  whispered  the  lean  and  dark  Sareogenes  in  the  man’s  very 
ear,  saying  unto  him:  “Be  not  deceived,  Ardelio.  This  Jesus  is 
solely  a  blasphemer  (I  know  him  well)  and  a  raiser  of  sedition.  He 
was  tried  for  blasphemy  (was  he  not?)  condemned  for  sedition,  and 
is  now  being  executed  therefor.  ’  ’ 

“His  doctrines?” 

“Folly.” 

“His  miracles?” 

“Magic.” 

“But  thou  thyself  dost  follow  Jesus.” 

“Be  not  deceived:  I  do  merely  delude  his  disciples. — Hast  thou 
had  no  pleasures  since  I  saw  thee  last  ?  ’  ’ 

“Yea.  I  have  worshipped  at  Corinth  and  at  Bhodes,  and  have  had 
much  pleasures  of  the  flesh.” 

“It  is  well.  Thou  hast  a  true  religion. — But  Jesus — ’Twas  I  that 
agged  on  that  traitor,  Judas — and  for  a  reason.”  Here  he  filled  the 
mind  of  Ardelio,  the  foolish  busy-body,  up,  with  terrible  lies  as  against 
Jesus,  the  which  he  bade  him  spread  with  all  industry  both  in  the 
city  of  Jerusalem  and  likewise  in  all  the  other  places  of  the  world 
whatsoever,  in  which  he  might  chance  to  be.  And  many  of  these 
lies  are  extant  still. 

And  he  gave  him  moneys,  and  called  for  much  unwatered  wine. 
And  the  twain  drank  in  deep  silence,  while  one  of  the  nearby  phi¬ 
losophers  saith  to  another:  “I  tell  thee  Jesus  was  mad.  He  was  an 
impostor  withal.  He  expected  that  His  followers  would  come  and 
release  Him  from  the  cross  (the  which  they  will  not  do)  although 
He  surely  did  prophesy  that  He  must  die  on  the  tree,  then  be  buried, 
and  so,  after  three  days  in  the  tomb,  come  up  from  the  dead.  ’  ’ 

Said  the  second  philosopher,  “As  for  this  Jesus,  thou  knowest  I  am 
flat  against  Him,  but  behold !  I  think  Him  a  just  man  and  one  from 
on  high.  ’  ’ 

“But  what  say  the  Greeks?” 


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SIMON  OF  GYRENE 


“The  Greeks?  I  will  tell  thee  what  the  Greeks  say.  There  was 
one  Plato.  Perchance  thou  knowest  Plato.  Hast  heard  of  Plato — 
and  Socrates?  Well,  Socrates  saith,  ‘We  must  of  necessity  wait 
until  some  one  from  Him  who  careth  for  us  shall  come  and  instruct 
us  how  we  ought  to  behave  toward  God  and  toward  man.’  Hear 
now  Plato:  ‘We  cannot  know  of  ourselves  what  petition  will  be 
pleasing  to  God  and  what  worship  we  should  pay  to  Him,  but  it  is 
necessary  that  a  law-giver  should  be  sent  from  Heaven  to  instruct  us. 
Oh,  how  greatly  do  I  long  to  see  that  man !  That  law-giver  must  be 
more  than  man,  that  He  may  teach  us  the  things  man  cannot  know 
by  his  own  nature.’  ” 

“Then  why  believest  thou  not  on  Jesus,  if  thou  holdest  with  these 
passages  ?  ’  ’ 

“A  sign!”  he  cried.  “A  sign  from  heaven.  Ere  I  do  believe, 
I  must  have  some  certain  sign.” 

“A  sign  from  heaven !  Well  said  indeed ! ’ ’  cried  Sarcogenes  across 
the  room.  “I,  too,  would  have  had  a  sign  from  heaven.  Had  I  had 
that — a  certain  sign  and  straight  from  heaven — I  too  would,  of  a 
verity,  have  believed.” 

‘  *  There  shall  be  no  sign  from  heaven,  ’  ’  said  the  other  philosopher. 

“It  is  true,”  confirmed  Sarcogenes.  “For  Jesus  is  an  impostor. 
Therefore  hath  He  not  any  sign  from  heaven. — But  tell  me  (ye  who 
will)  is  it  indeed  very  dark?  It  is  not  the  ninth  hour — for  I  have 
listened  to  the  slave  at  the  near-by  water  clock.  Even  thy  nose,  O 
Ardelio,  I  scarce  can  perceive.” 

“It  hath,  for  a  great  while,  been  dark,”  said  the  slattern,  Cupi- 
ditas,  keeper  of  the  house,  “but  ye  have  not  noticed,  any  of  you. 
Drink  deeper  and  forget  the  darkness.” 

Deeper  they  drank.  And  some  of  the  sons  of  tumult  vomited. 
One  of  the  dull  philosophers  began,  “A  man  there  was  that  was 
seized  on  by  the  soldiers  and  made  to  bear  Christ’s  cross.” 

“That  is  true,”  confirmed  Ardelio,  “and  much  offended  was  that 
man.  I  know  him,  a  certain  Simon,  a  priest  that  hath  lost  his 
genealogy.  He  was  much  offended.” 

“Nay,”  said  the  second  philosopher,  “offended  was  he  not.  I  too 
did  see  him,  and  his  face  shone  as  he  had  seen  in  spirit  a  hallowed 
sign  from  heaven.  I  could  not  quite  tell,  but  methought  I  heard  the 
suffering  Nazarene  speak  unto  him — just  one  soft,  sweet  word.  I 
could  not  quite  tell,  although  I  was  close.” 

“There  may  have  been  magic  in  the  word,”  suggested  Ardelio. 
“In  any  case,  when  I  did  look  upon  Simon,  methought  he  was  greatly 
offended  and  would  not  have  borne  the  cross  for  the  world.  A  giant 


DIVINE  ASSISTANCE 


199 


too !  He  might  have  cleared  an  easy  way  before  him,  spite  of  a  dozen 
soldiers.  ’  ’ 

Then  said  the  first  philosopher,  ‘‘What  God  intends,  that  shall 
be  done,  spite  of  man’s  weakness  or  strength.” 

“But  Jesns  was  not  God.”  Thus  Ardelio. 

“True,”  replied  the  first  philosopher.  “He  was  not  God.  But 
God — by  which  I  mean  the  informing  spirit  of  the  universe — con- 
trolleth  the  actions  of  all  men  that  be — impostors,  priests  with  no 
longer  any  genealogy,  eke  philosophers,  governors,  rich  men  and 
beggars  and  farmers,  tradesmen  and  thieves — Caasar  himself.  Even 
the  humble  scarabaeus  as  he  rolleth  his  orb  in  the  dust  is  in  the  hands 
of  God.” 

Said  one  of  the  sons  of  tumult  unto  another,  “Spurcus,  what  kind 
of  dung  wouldst  thou  handle  most  pleasurably  wert  thou  a  scara- 
bagus  ?  ’  ’ 

“Dung?”  said  softly  Spurcus,  considering  with  profundity:  “I 
believe  it  were  the  dung  of  a  cow.  Yea,  the  dung  of  a  cow  would 
it —  I  am — sure — sure  it  would  be  the  dung  of  a  cow.” 

“So  would  not  I,”  said  the  asker. 

“Well,  what  then?”  asked  Spurcus. 

“The  dung  of  a  goat.  Not  the  dung  of  a  horse,  nor  the  dung  of 
a  cow,  but  the  dung  of  an  old  he-goat.” 

“Well,  well:  what’s  difference.  Now,  see  here,  thou  art  Obscenus 
and  I  Spurcus.  I  tell  thee  plainly  the  dung  of  a  cow  is  pleasant  per¬ 
fume  by  the  side  of  the  dung  of  a  goat.” 

“And  I  tell  thee  plainly  I  would  roll  my  balls  from  the  dung 
of  a  goat,  for  this  very  reason  that  it  is  a  goat’s  foul  dung,  and 
stinketh.  Now,  therefore.  Let  us  be  reasonable.” 

“Reasonable?”  shouted  Spurcus.  “I  call  upon  thee,  Sordes — 
thou  art  a  fair  man  and  a  clean.  Now  see  here.  I  cannot  quite 
remember.  Listen  to  me.” 

He  ceased  to  speak  and  arose.  His  eyes  took  on  the  look  of  one 
studying  a  thing  far  off.  He  raised  a  hand  to  his  forehead,  then 
touched  his  lips. 

All  at  once  he  vomited,  with  great  force,  clear  across  the  room. 

“Knew  it  was  coming,”  cried  out  Sordes,  as  his  rare  foreknowledge 
were  a  miracle.  “Let  us  go,  all.” 

He  started  away,  but  Spurcus  lifted  cup  again  and  would  have 
drunken,  but  that  the  room  of  a  sudden  swayed,  as  the  mighty  world 
all  at  once  had  gone  to  sea.  The  goblet  fell.  A  sound  of  groaning 
came  from  deep  down  within  the  foundations. 

Spurcus,  the  vomiter,  cried:  “Jesus,  thou  diest,  I  not  beside 


200 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


thee.  I  meant  to  be  beside  thee.  0  Jesus,  that  diest  to  save  men 
from  their  sins!” 

He  rushed  into  the  street,  his  companions,  laughing  mightily, 
close  after  him. 

One  of  the  dull  philosophers  saith  in  a  low  voice,  “An  earthquake.” 

But  Sarcogenes  rebuked  him  mightily,  saying:  “We  are  all 
drunk:  there  is  no  earthquake  but  the  surging  of  sour  wine.” 

It  quaked  once  more.  The  ceiling  rent  asunder,  the  floor  gapped. 

Then  cried  both  philosophers,  “It  is  an  earthquake!  What  God 
intendeth  to  do  shall  be  done,  spite  of  man’s  weakness  or  strength.” 

Sarcogenes  laughed  so  that  his  voice  was  heard  above  the  louder 
and  louder  groaning  rocks.  He  scoffed,  saying:  “Thinkest  thou 
that  even  God  can  overcome  the  Devil?  Why,  then,  doth  He  not 
so? — There  is  no  earthquake. — No,  by  the  very  heart  of  Satan,  God 
cannot  overcome  him.  By  the  very  soul  of  Satan,  He  shall  not  do  so.” 

The  philosophers  looked  upon  the  man  with  terror,  and  cried: 
‘  ‘  How  knewest  thou  ?  how  knewest  ?  ’  ’ 

Went  Sarcogenes  up  anigh  unto  them,  and  peered  into  their  faces, 
as  he  might  behold  all  the  evil  in  their  hearts,  or  ere  he  answered. 
The  men  arose,  and  ran  shrieking  from  the  room. 

And  Cupiditas  crept  behind  the  curtain  of  a  doorway.  The  man 
of  evil,  flinging  her  gold,  departed. 

And  when  he  had  gained  the  street,  he  sought  for  any  to  whom 
he  might  make  evil  suggestions  concerning  Jesus.  But  behold,  the 
streets  were  void.  And  many  of  the  houses  had  been  riven  by  the 
earthquake. 

He  was  suddenly  seized  by  a  pain  around  his  heart.  He  set  both 
hands  above  his  breast,  therefore,  crying:  “Art  thou  back  again, 
pain,  and  worse  than  ever  yet  before?”  His  lofty  bearing  was  sup¬ 
pressed,  for  he  bowed  to  the  ground  in  agony. 

But  after  a  time  he  arose  again,  wildly  whispering:  “And  thou 
mightest  have  cured  me,  0  Jesus.” 

Having  wandered  about  the  desolate  streets  for  a  certain  time, 
he  at  length,  moved  by  an  impulse  he  did  not  understand,  fared 
to  the  Gate  of  Damascus,  and,  having  passed  therethrough,  faced 
northward,  following  the  city  wall. 

CHAPTER  XXVII 
A  Great  Shadow  on  a  Great  Soul 

Now  Simon  of  Cyrene  was  coming  down  the  mount  whereon  he 
had  beheld  the  crucifixion.  And,  as  he  came,  he  recalled  the  many 


DIVINE  ASSISTANCE 


201 


prophecies,  which,  though  in  unexpected  ways,  had  been  fulfilled  in 
Jesus.  He  had  also  heard  the  Centurion  (who  had  at  first  scoffed) 
cry  out,  “Truly  this  man  was  the  Son  of  God,”  and,  as  he  had  left 
the  dead,  yet  glorified,  Jesus,  he  had  beheld  one  in  a  shining  raiment, 
a  man  like  to  that  sunny-headed  Greek  of  old,  even  Lampadephorus, 
but  taller  and  yet  more  shining,  running  to  the  westward  with  a  loud 
cry :  1 ‘  Unto  all  the  world !  Unto  all  the  world !  ’  ’ 

And  Simon’s  spirit  was  filled  with  many  things,  the  which  he  was 
not  wholly  able  to  reconcile.  But  mostly  he  thought  about  J esus  and 
His  love.  He  inclined  to  the  Centurion,  who  had  declared:  “Truly 
this  Man  was  the  Son  of  God.”  He  thought,  “I  will  talk  these 
matters  over  with  Amahnah.  It  is  like  we  shall  follow  Jesus.” 

But  just  as  he  reached  the  bottom  of  the  hill,  he  beheld  that 
hypocritical  Christian  and  son  of  all  wrong,  the  black-faced  Sarco- 
genes,  who  was  likewise  Ophidion. 

Said  Simon  unto  him,  while  yet  a  great  way  off :  “  Peace  be  unto 
thee,  0  follower  of  Jesus.  I  am  this  day  full  of  love  as  toward  thee 
and  toward  all  men.  Let  us  be  brothers.” 

But  Sarcogenes  laughed  him  to  scorn,  saying:  “A  brother  unto 
pork !  By  the  god  of  flies  and  all  the  refuse  of  this  world !  ’ 9 

“Nay,  good  Ophidion  (or  the  rather  Sarcogenes,  as  now  they 
say  men  call  thee)  be  not  scornful,  but  love — thou — me.” 

And  he  held  out  twain  hands,  and  would  again  have  brothered 
Sarcogenes,  but  that  that  man  of  evil,  and  undeserving  hanger-on  of 
Jesus,  spat  upon  the  hands  and  refused  them  and  taking  up  dust  cast 
it  in  the  face  of  the  Jew. 

The  Jew  said  only,  “Insult  me  not,  0  good  one,  but  let  us  love 
each  other  truly,  even  as  the  Jesus  whom  thou  followest — and  whom 
I  also  now  incline  unto — would  have  us  that  we  should  do.  For  lo! 
He  is  dead,  and  yet  He  will  live  again.  Will  He  not  even  do  so?” 

But  Sarcogenes,  he  that  was  also  Ophidion,  in  the  room  of  con¬ 
firming  the  Jew  in  what  he,  Ophidion,  did  know  to  be  truth,  said  unto 
him :  i  ‘  Thy  locket !  Hast  thou  still  thy  locket  ?  Or  hast  thou  given 
it  also  (as  once  thou  gavest  thy  genealogy)  to  a  whore?” 

Simon  trembled  with  rage  he  could  not  conceal.  Yet  said  he  to 
Ophidion  never  a  word  of  harmfulness,  but  only:  “Brother — Jesus — 
love.  ’  ’ 

Then  smote  Sarcogenes  him  upon  the  cheek,  and  Simon  smote  not 
back. 

Then  said  the  Man  of  Evil,  “Thou  gavest  the  contents  of  thy 
locket  unto  Gillul,  but  the  shell  thereof  to  that  other  (and  a  far 


202 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


worse)  harlot — even  Amahnah,  which  is  Enooth  and  Machashebethel. 
And  now  ye  seek  for  to  give  both  her  and  it  unto  Jesus.” 

Then  raised  Simon  of  Cyrene  his  voice  and  cursed  aloud  before  the 
whole  world. 

And  the  things  which  he  said  were  such  that  even  Ophidion 
blenched,  and,  drawing  quickly  to  one  side,  ran  back  swiftly  into 
the  city. 

And  the  words  which  the  Jew  flung  after  him  both  as  concerning 
Jesus  and  also  His  many  followers,  may  not  be  written  here.  For 
there  was  in  those  words  the  greatest  blasphemy  which  ever  hath 
been  spoke. 

And  Simon  followed  southward  along  the  city  wall,  and  entered 
the  city.  For,  in  his  present  condition  of  mind,  he  would  not  return 
to  Amahnah.  Therefore  after  a  time  of  passing  to  and  fro,  he  went, 
by  the  dung  gate,  out  into  Gehenna,1  or  the  place  of  burnings. 

And  behold,  he  felt  that  Gehenna  was  like  the  fires  in  his  own  soul. 

And  he  wandered  far,  around  and  about,  in  this  place,  amid  the 
filth  and  the  flames,  the  smoking  and  the  stenches,  the  forkings  and 
the  baskets. 

And  Simon,  being  weary  and  lonely  of  heart,  went  up  unto 
the  chief  burner  and  spake  to  him. 

And  the  chief  burner  first  caused  fresh  loads  of  many  more 
baskets  of  refuse  to  be  piled  upon  the  highest  of  the  fires.  There  was 
for  a  moment  utter  darkness.  Then  said  the  chief  burner,  1  ‘  Thou  art 
the  man  that  was  rejected  of  the  High  Priest.’ ’ 

Simon  wept. 

Said  the  chief  once  again,  “I  perceive  thee,  who  thou  art.  Thou 
art  Simon  of  Cyrene,  once  known  as  Samson  and  as  Solomon,  a  man 
destined  to  be  mighty  amongst  the  mightiest  in  Israel.  But  thou 
didst  worship  after  a  certain  Temunah,  then  a  certain  Emah  which 
is  in  Crocodilopolis.  (Hast  thou  not  told  these  matters  concerning 
thyself?)  And  later,  after  a  certain  Gillul,  which  is  priestess  in 
Edom,  and,  later  still,  because  thou  wast  incorrigible,  thou  didst 
give  thyself  up  unto  Shikkuts’  sister,  even  Abaddone,  which  followed 
after  Moloch,  whose  rites  of  fire  were  celebrated  aforetime  in  this 
valley.  And  later  thou  wast  rejected  of  the  High  Priest,  and  so 
becamest  a  Pharisee.  And  today  (I  know,  for  I  have  heard  thee) 
thou  hast  thyself  done  a  rejection.” 

Simon  wept  again. 

And  they  began  to  cast  ordure  on  him,  shouting:  “God  hath 
chosen  out  a  priest  for  naught.” 


1  Or  “Gehinnom.” 


DIVINE  ASSISTANCE 


203 


But  Simon,  at  this,  ceased  weeping,  and  turning  upon  them,  cried : 
4 ‘Shall  a  man  endure  everything?  No,  by  the  gods.  I  am  not  this 
time  the  rejected.  But  who  is  He  that  I  have  cast  aside?  A  god 
of  Ophidion,  and  also,  belike,  of  you.  And  as  I  do  to  you,  so  would 
I  gladly  do  unto  Him.” 

And  he  drave  them  round  like  dust. 

And  when  he  had  harrowed  Gehinnom,  he  (perceiving  that  soldiers 
were  coming  down  into  the  valley)  took  refuge  in  one  of  the  passages 
which  there  was,  underground,  beneath  the  City,  and,  wandering 
for  a  long  time,  came  out  on  a  certain  hill,  whereupon  he  stumbled 
often  in  the  darkness,  and  at  length  fell  and  could  hardly  arise. 
And  he  fingered  out  three  great  deep  holes,  in  which  there  had  stood 
the  crosses  of  that  day. 

So,  having,  through  his  flight  from  Cassar,  come  unto  Golgotha 
again,  the  bosom  of  darkness  opened  up  before  him  as  he  lay,  and 
he  saw  therein  an  innumerable  multitude — both  of  Greeks  and  of 
Komans  and  of  Jews;  also  of  Parthians,  Syrians,  Egyptians,  and 
peoples  from  all  the  world.  And  they  marched  in  a  strange,  dis¬ 
orderly  assemblage  over  the  earth.  And  behold!  at  the  head  of  the 
multitude  were  legionaries,  shining  in  scarlet  and  imperial  brass,  and, 
in  their  midst  (besides  the  indifferent  thieves)  two  men — Jesus  of 
Nazareth  and  yet  another — 

And  Jesus,  turning,  spake  unto  that  other,  and  behold!  his 
countenance  became  illuminate.  And  he  of  the  shining  countenance 
took  the  unhappy  tree  from  Jesus’  shoulders,  and  placed  it  on  his  own. 
And  in  and  out  the  boundless  gulfs  of  space  about  these  multitudes  of 
men  appeared  and  disappeared  hosts  of  ecstatic  angels,  harping 
music  which  Simon  knew  to  be  eternal,  for  that  it  was  far  too  sweet 
that  it  should  ever  die.  And  the  song  which  the  angels  sang  was, 
“Holy,  holy,  holy!  Unto  the  Lamb  is  victory — victory  upon  the 
cross. ’  9 

And  the  Simon  which  looked  upon  this  scene,  cried  aloud:  “No 
more :  or  else,  being  possessed  with  devils,  I  shall  go  mad. 9  ’ 

And  behold !  the  angels  vanished,  and  the  procession  of  many 
men  with  them,  and  he  saw,  in  the  way  of  the  west,  the  lofty  portals 
of  the  whole  world’s  future  unclose.  He  beheld  from  what  he  knew 
to  be  the  ruins  of  the  Holy  City,  that  last  world-kingdom,  even  Home 
itself,  waver  and  tumble  into  glittering  fragments;  saw  the  end  of 
graven  images ;  the  risings  of  the  peoples  of  the  North,  together  with 
the  innumerable  multiplications  of  the  conquering  tree.  He  witnessed 
Jerusalem  rebuilt  with  minarets  and  mosques,  and  heard  the  muezzin 
in  his  towers.  Then  he  envisaged  wave  on  wave  of  western  warriors 


204 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


seeking  to  release  Jerusalem,  and  all  did  bear  upon  their  lofty  banners 
the  sacred  sign  and  symbol — Jesus’  cross. 

And  he  looked  far  over  the  northern  fields  of  Europe,  and  beheld 
unaccountable  great  buildings,  over  each  whereof  did  stand  a  glitter¬ 
ing  cross.  And  the  buildings  themselves  were  builded  in  the  forms 
of  giant  crosses.  And  he  went  within  the  greatest  of  all  the  buildings, 
and  beheld  innumerable  tiny  crucifixes.  And  organs  played,  and 
sweet  musicians,  clad  in  shining  raiment,  sang,  and  the  songs  they 
sang  were  all  about  the  cross.  Standing  alone  in  a  rosy-and-purple 
windowed  corner,  he  beheld  in  the  palm  of  his  own  great  right  hand — 
a  bloody  cross. 

Then  ran  he  quickly  without,  and  entered  a  place  of  innumerable 
graves,  and  behold!  above  each  grave — a  cross. 

Then  he  cried  aloud,  and  looked  again  and  trembled,  and  beheld, 
beyond  all  Europe,  a  vast  expanse  of  western  waters.  And  he  looked 
once  more,  and  saw,  beyond  the  waters,  new  and  mighty  continents. 
He  said,  ‘ 1  Behold !  There  be  only  red  men  here,  and  here  there  shall 
be  no  crosses.” 

But  the  words  had  scarce  gone  forth  out  of  him,  when  he  saw, 
moving  along  upon  the  water,  three  tiny  ships,  and  each  did  bear  the 
cross.  And  the  ships  came  unto  the  land,  and  they  that  set  first 
their  feet  upon  the  land,  erected  on  that  land — a  cross.  And  all  did 
kneel  about  the  cross,  and  pray. 

Soon  there  were  crosses  in  these  new  countries  also,  both  above  the 
living  and  the  dead. 

And  Simon  looked  still  further  into  the  future,  beyond  the 
millenaries  and  the  deka-millenaries  and,  inconceivably,  still  remoter 
ages,  built  up  and  compounded  of  vast  temporal  extensions  so  incom¬ 
prehensibly  distant — but  everywhere  the  cross ! — that  the  soul  of  the 
Jew  was  riven  asunder. 

Then  cried  he  aloud,  “Why  hast  thou  led  me  back  to  Calvary,  O 
Jehovah- Jesus?  Wouldst  thou  kill  my  soul,  0  Adonai,  while  yet  it  is 
in  the  flesh  ?  Why  am  I  so  stiff-necked  and  enduring  as  against  thee  ? 
Wilt  thou  arise  from  the  very  dead  ?  Even  so,  would  I  believe  upon 
thee?  My  soul  is  too  tough  that  it  should  any  time  change.  Thou 
hast  made  me  what  I  am !  Adonai,  0  Adonai !  guide  thou  me ! 

“Behold,  my  back  is  bitten  with  the  lash!  My  shoulders,  they 
are  dead  with  the  bearing  of  the  cross.  Lead  me  not  further  into 
contaminations,  but  cause  that  mine  enemies  shall  wholly  forget  that 
thing  which  I  did  bear  this  day.  Let  me  no  more  prophesy.  Am  I 
an  idolater  ?  See,  I  beat  my  breast.  I  tear  my  garment,  I  pour  dust 
like  oil  upon  my  head.  I  am  a  Jew.  Why  didst  thou  set  the  robber  in 


DIVINE  ASSISTANCE 


205 


my  way  to  turn  me  hither  in  the  morning,  and  the  visions  now  to 
bring  me  back  at  night? 

“0  Adonai,  Adonai!  Show  me  not  any  more  dreams:  these  I 
cannot  endure.  My  soul  abhorreth  the  sessions  of  the  night,  the 
pictures  that  are  painted  on  darkness.  Show  me  not  thy  ways  to 
come,  0  God,  or  I  shall  change  indeed,  and  become  a  worshipper  of 
the  Devil.” 

And  he  sank  into  a  swoon,  or  horror  of  darkness.  Therein  was 
the  voice  of  the  Lord. 

And  the  Lord  said  unto  him,  “Simon,  Simon!  Thou  that  wast 
both  Samson  and  Solomon!  I  am  Adonai,  He  that  spake  unto  thee 
within  thy  father’s  tomb  in  Cyrenaica.  I  have  hitherto  hewn  thee 
roughly,  but  now  I  will  chisel  thee  deeply  and  mark  my  lesser  lines 
upon  thee,  and  grind  thee  exceeding  fine.  And  thou  shalt  never 
change  at  all  without  my  word,  for  I  would  have  thee  be  only  in  a 
certain  way.  And  when  I  have  no  further  need  of  thee,  I  will  break 
thee  into  little  pieces,  and  yet  will  preserve  thee  forever.  Selah.  ’  ’ 


' 


* 


PART  II 

THE  GRINDING  FINE 


BOOK  IV.  THE  SCHOOL 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 
Philosophy  and  Eternal  Life 

When,  then,  Trivialis  the  craven-hearted,  had  come  forth  out  of 
his  hiding,  he  would,  when  no  one  looked,  be  a-pilfering.  And  having 
grown  bolder,  he  snatched  at  girdles  and  bulgas,  and  became,  in  time, 
a  great  robber. 

But  on  a  day,  having  received  a  fearful  wound,  he  said  in  his 
heart :  “I  will  go  back  into  the  city,  even  Athens.  For,  being  much 
changed  since  I  did  leave  the  legionaries  with  a  poor  excuse,  it  is  not 
like,  now,  that  any  shall  be  able  to  say  to  me  who  I  am. ’  ’ 

He  took,  therefore,  the  little  sum  which  he  had  had  from  his 
last  misdoing,  and  set  him  up  a  shop  in  the  Street  of  the  Ants,  which 
had  gotten  its  name  from  this  that  it  was  crooked,  narrow  and  in 
utmost  darkness. 

But  here  he  had  no  good  fortune,  even  as  ever  had  been  the  issue, 
when  he  had  sought  the  ways  of  business  on  his  own  uninstructed 
part.  Therefore  resorted  he  to  little  shabby  tricks,  as,  to  wit,  the 
selling  of  poor  wine  for  good,  the  giving  of  short  measures,  and  the 
making  of  false  accomptings. 

At  length  he  began  to  ask  himself,  “Is  it  well  to  exist  so?  For 
behold,  I  am  not  any  longer  an  honest  man.  Moreover,  I  soon  shall 
have  neither  wine  nor  oil  nor  grapes  nor  figs  nor  oboli.  But  behold ! 
I  have  a  knife,  and  the  edge  is  very  keen,  and  my  throat — ” 

Then  he  went  for  a  walk  in  the  agora  and  stood  by  the  public 
sundial,  watching  the  shadow  of  that  inexorable  finger,  the  digit  of 
Chronos  or  old  Time.  He  said,  “What  shall  be  for  me  when  time 
is  no  more?”  Again  he  felt  of  the  edge  of  his  knife. 

Came  then  certain  philosophers  walking  in  a  near-by  stoa,  in 
their  midst  a  tall  young  man,  richly  apparelled,  a  new  disciple,  who 
was  both  lean  and  yellow  of  countenance.  Said  one  of  the  teachers  to 
the  young  man,  “Verily  I  do  tell  thee  philosophy  is  that  department 
of  human  intellectual  endeavor  which  seeketh  to  comprehend  the 
universe  as  one  single  rational  whole.  It  refuseth  to  see  the  parts 
of  the  world  except  in  their  relations  to  other  parts.” 

Said  the  disciple,  “Yea,  but  today  I  am  told  by  my  physician  that 

209 


14 


210 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


I  must  shortly  die.  And  I  am  fearful  lest,  when  I  die,  I  shall  wholly 
dissolve  and  lose  my  relations  to  all  the  other  parts.  Who  hath  not  at 
some  time  felt  so?  Speak  ye  therefore  unto  me  concerning  the 
immortality  of  the  soul.  Your  fees  shall  be  doubled.’ ’ 

Said  a  Pythagorean,  “I  will  tell  thee,  Humanus,  what  my  master 
hath  said  upon  this  point.  Thou  knowest  Pythagoras — he  that  was 
born  in  Samos,  or,  as  Aristoxenus  asserteth,  a  Tyrrhenian  ?  He  made 
a  cavern  deep  within  the  earth  and  so  secretly  that  only  his  mother 
did  know  thereof.  Then  went  he  down  thereinto  and  hid.  His  mother 
dropped  into  the  cavern  daily  certain  tablets  whereon  she  had  written 
all  the  happenings  of  the  city.  And  after  a  very  long  time  he  came 
up  forth  of  the  earth  again,  wrinkled,  lean,  and  looking  as  he  were  a 
skeleton  with  a  mere  skin  stretched  over  it.  He  passed  out  into  the 
Agora  and  said  he  had  come  from  the  dead,  and  told  the  people  all 
those  things  which  had  gone  on  in  his  absence.  Then  thought  they  him 
a  divine  being.” 

But  Humanus  coughed  and  spat,  and  said  irritably,  even  with 
his  hand  over  his  chest:  “But  what  said  he  about  the  soul,  about 
life  everlasting  ?  ’  ’ 

The  Pythagorean  smiled  and  answered  and  said  unto  him,  “One 
of  his  so-called  ‘symbols’  was  this:  ‘When  travelling  abroad,  look 
not  back  upon  your  own  borders.’  Whereby  he  meant  that  those 
preparing  to  die  should  cease  to  care  too  much  about  life.  And 
yet —  ’  ’ 

“Is  there  not  some  one,”  Humanus  asked,  “that  can  tell  me  what 
I  fain  would  know?” 

“Not  so  fast,”  replied  the  Pythagorean.  “My  master  did  believe 
that  the  souls  of  the  righteous  are  transformed  and  absorbed  into 
God.” 

“But  I — I  myself — am  I  lost?” 

“I  fear  that  thou  art  lost.” 

Then  said  Humanus,  “Yet  another  speak  to  me.” 

Spake  unto  him  a  pupil  of  Zeno,  a  Stoic,  a  very  lean  and  slender 
man,  marching  with  slowness  and  sad  dignity.  Said  the  Stoic  unto 
Humanus,  “If  thou  art  worthy,  thou  wilt  indeed,  after  that  thou 
hast  departed  the  earth,  pass  into  the  Infinite  Being.  But  first  thou 
shalt  live  on,  thyself  as  thyself  alone,  for  a  certain  limited  period: 
long,  hast  thou  been  just,  but  short,  if  unjust.” 

The  Epicurean  chuckled.  Not  like  unto  the  Stoic  he,  but  of  glad 
and  rosy  countenance.  Turning  his  bright,  keen  eyes  both  upon 
Humanus  and  all  that  company,  he  saith :  ‘  ‘  Why  delude  the  dying  ? 


THE  SCHOOL 


211 


We  are  bones  and  ashes — nothing  more.  Let  us  therefore  drink  and 
eat  and  be  as  happy  as  we  can,  for  soon — ” 

‘‘I  have  already  said,”  cried  out  Humanus,  with  a  despairing 
wave  of  his  bony  fingers,  “that,  for  me,  this  life  no  longer  exists.  Is 
this  the  comfort  ye  give?” 

The  Epicurean  answered  nothing,  but  cat-footed  softly  over 
against  the  public  sun-dial  where  Trivialis  stood,  feigning  to  study  the 
dial. 

Then  said  another  (while  Trivialis,  with  his  finger  in  his  bosom 
and  still  upon  the  knife’s  edge — leaned  over  and  listened  that  he 
might  not  miss  one  word  of  that  which  was  unto  him  as  a  judgment) 

‘ 4 1  remember,  ’  ’  said  this  other  of  the  mighty  teachers,  ‘  ‘  how  Socrates 
is  thought  to  have  said  (as  we  may  guess  from  Xenophon  and  what 
that  writer  declaretli  about  Cyrus  on  his  death  bed)  that  no  one 
knoweth  whether  indeed  the  soul  existeth  after  the  bodily  death  or 
not,  but  he  thinketh  that  the  soul  may  be  eternal,  and  because  of 
these  three  things:  (1st)  the  reverence  which  all  men  show  to  the 
dead  (2d)  the  soul’s  invisibility  (3d)  the  likeness  of  death  unto  his 
brother,  sleep.  And  likewise  certain  other  reasons  not  necessary  to 
be  distributed  and  numbered.” 

“And  he  felt  not  certain,  then?” 

“Nay,  not  wholly.  Speak  thou  unto  the  Platonist.” 

But  the  Platonist — a  hunchback  with  a  beautiful  countenance — 
said  without  asking,  “I,  indeed,  know  more  than  any  of  these  others 
about  the  soul’s  true  life  and  its  ever  continued  being  whenas  the 
body  has  fallen  from  it  away. 

“My  Master,  Plato,  has  in  fact,  in  his  ‘Phasdo,’  held  that  the 
soul  doth  own  three  several  parts,  corresponding  in  outward  nature 
unto  plant  and  animal  and  man.  The  effect  of  the  superdominance 
of  the  one  part  or  the  other  is  seen  in  (1)  the  Phoenicians  and  Egyp¬ 
tians,  who  most  love  profit  (2)  the  vigorous  nations  of  the  North, 
who  most  delight  in  fortitude  and  valor  (3)  the  Greeks,  who  are  all 
for  culture  and  the  things  which  appertain  unto  mind.  Now,  this 
three-fold  thing,  the  soul,  is  immortal  (as  the  man  himself  has  said 
in  his  ‘Phaedrus’)  because,  from  it,  originateth  motion;  also  because 
(as  he  saith  in  his  ‘Timaeus’)  God  himself  would  not  destroy  so 
wonderful  a  thing  and  all  beautiful  as  is  the  soul;  and,  finally, 
because  (even  as  the  Master  hath  put  it  in  his  ‘Phaedo’)  the  soul’s 
eternal  longing  for  future  life  is  a  fine  and  cogent  evidence  that 
such  life  pertaineth  by  very  nature  unto  it.” 

And  when  he  had  finished,  then  was  the  company  silent  a  very 
long  time,  for  each  of  them  present  did  know  that  these  were  the 


212 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


greatest  of  all  the  arguments  which  philosophy  hath  for  the  immor¬ 
tality  of  the  soul. 

Over  by  the  steps  of  a  near-by  temple  men  were  playing  at  mora, 
crying:  “I  win,  I  win:  I  have  won  everything ! ’ ’  Farther  away,  a 
little  grinding  sound  was  heard,  the  under-moaning  of  the  world  at 
trade. 

There  passed  a  trembling  shadow  over  the  sun.  The  Epicurean, 
who  stood  even  yet  by  the  dial,  announceth  unto  them  all :  ‘‘It  is  now 
high  noon.” 

Came  a  wail  from  the  sickly  lips  of  Humanus.  “Know  ye,  any  of 
you,  the  least  certainty  about  these  things  ?  Know  ye  these  things  at 
all,  or  are  they  merely  speculations ?  Say.” 

“Speculations  only,  as  thou  seest,”  the  hunchback  saith  unto 
him.  “As  Socrates  declared,  ‘We  never  can  know  concerning  these 
matters,  until  some  one  comes  from  the  other  world  to  tell  us/  ” 

Then  the  Epicurean  whispered,  “The  sky  darkeneth,  even  at  mid¬ 
day.  And  there  be  no  clouds.” 

At  this  the  Skeptic  laughed,  but  the  Platonist  admonished  him, 
saying:  “Laugh  not  at  all;  it  darkeneth.” 

And  all  the  other  philosophers  repeated,  “It  doth  darken.” 

The  busy  city  became  silent,  and  the  world  as  it  were  a  hornful 
of  ink.  High  upon  the  Acropolis,  a  heifer  moving  up  for  sacrifice 
in  the  temple  of  Athena  Parthena  (  the  Athenian  virgin)  lowed,  and 
after  a  very  long  time,  lowed  yet  again — in  the  midst  of  a  solemn 
hush  as  it  were  in  the  unpeopled  meadow  of  a  distant  farmstead. 

“The  gods  have  heard,”  said  the  Skeptic,  “and  do  revenge  them¬ 
selves  upon  us  that,  just  now,  we  were  discussing  sacred  things,  which 
they  alone  might  fathom.” 

But  the  disciple  saith,  “I  care  not  what  fortuneth  me  here,  for 
die  I  shall  in  any  case,  and  ye  also,  now  or  a  little  later.  But  I  would 
a  friend  or  a  brother  might  have  died  and  come  back  and  assured  me 
certainly  of  some  of  these  other  things.  Oh  for  a  friend  or  a  brother 
that  might  come  back !  ’ ’ 

And  the  city  remained  in  darkness,  and  more  and  more  dreadful 
groanings  came  from  under  the  height  of  rocks. 

And  Trivialis  fled  the  Stoa,  nor  knew  which  way  he  went,  but  ran, 
some  of  the  time  this  way,  again  that.  And  all  the  world  was  dark 
for  the  space  of  three  hours,  whenafter — a  mighty  earthquake,  the 
world  shaken  to  its  foundations.  There  were  moanings  in  the  center 
of  the  earth,  and  people  from  time  to  time  cried  out  in  the  very  deep 
darkness. 


THE  SCHOOL 


213 


CHAPTER  XXIX 

Via  Dolorosa  ad  Maximum  Protracta 

Simon  of  Cyrene  led  the  procession  of  the  miserable.1 

All  night  long  the  wretches  had  marched — these  poor,  friendless 
convicts,  in  the  night-chill  and  the  dust.  Sentenced  by  the  judges 
of  Caesar  were  they,  some  for  great  offenses  some  for  little:  better 
by  far,  too,  taken  by  and  large,  than  any  of  the  judges  who  had 
condemned  them. 

Poor  servi  publici,  slaves  of  an  indifferent  state,  marching  to  who 
might  say  what  further  indifferences  and  indignities ! 

At  the  head  of  the  procession,  bigger  and  more  mournful  than  any 
of  the  others,  plodded  Simon  of  far  Cyrene. 

In  his  mind  the  disconsolate  Jew  retraced  again  and  yet  again 
the  cruelly  incomprehensible  events  which  had  come  to  him  so  lately 
that  they  seemed  still  a  portion  of  the  bitterly  sensible  present. 

He  went  back  over  this  march,  and  recalled  the  landing  at  Gades, 
there  among  the  free-eyed,  curiously  watching  tourists  from  Massilia 
and  Rome ;  back  still  farther  to  the  weary  tugging  at  the  oar  across  the 

1  It  has  been  asserted  by  a  number  of  commentators,  without,  however,  one 
scintilla  of  evidence,  that  Simon  became  a  Christian,  either  at  the  foot  of  the 
cross  or  on  some  later  day.  Others  declare  that,  though  we  have  no  reason  at  all 
for  supposing  that  Simon  himself  ever  became  a  Christian,  yet  that  it  is  surely 
proved  that  his  two  sons,  Rufus  and  Alexander,  did  certainly  become  such. 

Here,  now,  is  all  the  evidence  which  we  really  possess  upon  these  three  points: 
Matthew,  27,  32:  “And  as  they  came  out,  they  found  a  man  of  Cyrene,  Simon  by 
name:  him  they  compelled  to  go  with  them ,  that  he  might  bear  his  cross.”  Mark 
15,  21:  “And  they  compel  one  passing  by,  Simon  of  Cyrene,  coming  from  the 
country,  the  father  of  Alexander  and  Rufus,  to  go  with  them,  that  he  might  bear 
his  cross.”  Luke  23,  26:  “And  when  they  led  him  away,  they  laid  hold  upon 
one  Simon  of  Cyrene,  coming  from  the  country,  and  laid  on  him  the  cross,  to 
bear  it  after  Jesus.”  John  nowhere  mentions  either  Simon  or  his  sons.  Plainly, 
the  language  of  Matthew,  Mark  and  Luke  is  not  of  a  kind  even  to  suggest  the 
probability  that  Simon  was  a  Christian  at  the  time  when  these  three  gospellers 
wrote — i.  e.,  many  years  after  the  crucifixion.  “One  Simon  of  Cyrene,”  etc.,  is 
hardly  the  language  that  would  have  been  employed  for  the  purpose  of  designating 
a  fellow  disciple.  As  to  Rufus  and  Alexander,  these  are  mentioned  by  Mark 
alone,  and  by  him  not  as  “brethren,”  or  “disciples,”  but  only  as  persons  who, 
perhaps,  would  be  better  known  to  those  for  whom  Mark  was  writing  than  would 
Simon  himself.  They  might  have  been  known  either  as  Christians,  or  as  non- 
Christians — even  as  actual  persecutors  of  our  brethren.  The  sacred  author  neither 
states  nor  implies  in  what  capacity  the  sons  of  Simon  were  known,  but  only  implies 
that,  being  known,  they  might  serve  as  means  of  identification  of  the  Simon  who 
bore  the  cross — and  who  is  presumed  by  all  the  gospellers  to  have  been  unknown 
to  Christians. 

As  to  the  attempted  identification,  made  by  certain  writers,  of  these  three 
characters  with  persons  of  the  same  name  mentioned  in  some  of  the  epistles,  the 
authoritative  Edersheim  says  (“Life  and  Times  of  Jesus  the  Messiah,”  II,  587)  : 
“Thus  much  only  can  we  say  with  certainty;  to  identify  them  with  persons  of 
the  same  name  mentioned  in  other  parts  of  the  New  Testament  can  only  be  matter 
of  speculation.” 

Where,  then,  all  is  uncertainty,  the  fictionist  is  free  to  invent. 


214 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


laughing  lengths  of  the  Inland  Sea ;  back  beyond  the  tearful  embark¬ 
ation  in  the  gay,  if  accursed,  city  which  bore  the  name  of  the  Lord 
of  all  this  Earth,  even  Caesarea;  back,  still  farther,  to  his  own  false 
trial  and  unchartered  conviction. 

Ah  that  trial,  that  conviction!  Thou,  too,  0  Jesus,  thy  trial — 
Thou  couldst  understand ! 

He  had  been  found  by  Sarcogenes,  Sarcogenes  and  all  those  very 
soldiers  that  had  rattled  the  dice  round  Jesus’  cross.  Him  they  had 
found  dreaming,  him,  the  cross-bearer,  and  on  Calvary !  ‘  ‘  Strange,  ’  * 
cried  one  among  the  legionaries,  “that  he  who  bore  the  cross  for 
Jesus  should  have  come  back  to  the  very  Hill!” 

There,  at  all  events,  Simon  had  been  found  by  the  Man  of  Evil 
and  his  watch. 

And  him  they  had  brought  by  the  ashen  light  of  early  morning 
into  the  Pretorium,  and  so  before  Pilate — into  that  very  Pretorium  in 
fact  wherethrough  the  Lamb  of  Nazareth — 

Ah  J esus,  thou  couldst  understand,  an  thou  wert  by  me ! 

Pilate,  as  it  seemed  from  what  the  other  prisoners  who  waited  with 
Simon  said  unto  the  Jew,  had  somewhat  repented  of  his  judgment 
against  Christ,  and  his  heart  was  therefore  angry  as  toward  all  men. 
(For  a  half  repentance  is  apt  to  be  a  fearful  matter.)  Had  not 
Pilate’s  very  wife,  Claudia  Procula,  the  while  her  husband  sate  in 
judgment  on  Jesus,  sent  unto  him,  saying :  “Have  thou  nothing  to  do 
with  that  righteous  man,  for  I  have  suffered  many  things  this  day  in 
a  dream  concerning  Him”? 

And  now  his  fearful,  if  wolfish,  heart,  misgave  Pilate  (so  the 
report  ran)  lest  he  had  done  to  himself  a  public  woe,  for  many  of 
the  people  were  becoming  followers  of  Jesus,  which  was  surely  the 
Christ.  Caiaphas  indeed  with  all  of  official  Israel  about  him  (whom 
Pilate  despised)  would  not  be  convinced,  but  bent  their  hearts  on 
fearfullest  mischiefs  as  against  Christ’s  followers.  But  they  that 
banded  round  the  procurator,  having  witnessed  the  great  darkness, 
the  groaning  of  the  earth,  the  rending  of  the  veil  in  the  Temple,  the 
resurrection  of  the  dead,  had  (a  many  thereof)  deeply  sorrowed, 
saying:  “Surely  this  man  was  the  son  of  Jehovah.” 

Even  many  of  the  Jewish  people  were  sore  afeard,  and  some 
believed. 

Therefore,  when  Ophidion  and  the  watch  had  fetched  before 
Pilate’s  judgment-seat  the  gigantic  Jew  which  had  aided  (as  they 
against  him  said)  in  the  crucifixion  of  Jesus  (inasmuch  as  he  had 
borne  upon  his  shoulders  the  necessary  cross)  some  of  them  that 
had  trembled  around  Pilate  were  hopeful  in  the  extreme.  For 


THE  SCHOOL 


215 


(thought  they,  and  Pilate  after  them)  we  shall  have  some  chance 
to  show  our  sorrow  at  the  former  deed,  and,  as  for  this  Simon  of 
Cyrene,  he  shall  be  the  scapegoat  for  us  in  this  matter,  that  he  shall. 
Is  he  not  an  accursed  Jew? 

When,  therefore,  at  the  hearings,  Ophidion  (who,  as  heretofore 
declared,  had  had  in  public  some  plain  leanings  unto  Jesus)  arose 
and  read  the  delation  against  Simon,  the  trial  was  got  through  with 
quickly. 

Quoth  Ophidion  (on  whom  Pilate  smiled) :  1  ‘Here  indeed,  0 

sorrowers  for  Jesus,  is  the  arch-conspirator  against  our  Lord,  the 
Christ.  Were  it  not  so,  Pilatus,  would  he  himself  have  borne  the 
cross  even  to  the  place  of  execution?  Would  any  Jew  have  done  that 
willingly,  seeing  with  what  an  abhorrence  a  Jew  doth  look  upon  a 
cross?  Or  would  I  and  the  legionaries  of  great  Caesar  have  gone  to 
apprehend  this  man,  were  he  not  guilty  of  the  crime  alleged?  We 
do  not  think  so.  And  then  we  have  unnumbered  witnesses  here,  who 
can,  with  their  own  tongues,  testify  whatever  may  be  necessary.  If 
thou  art  willing,  0  thou  that  standest  in  the  place  of  the  Lord  of 
All  this  World,  let  these  truthful  people  speak.” 

And  the  witnesses,  being  sworn,  declared,  some  that  Simon  had 
often  attempted  to  conspire  not  only  against  Jesus,  but  also  against 
Pilate,  and  even  against  Caesar  himself.  Yet  others  asserted  that  the 
man  had  stolen  the  garments  of  the  Crucified,  there  at  the  foot  of  the 
cross  (being  naturally  a  thief)  while  the  soldiers  (who  were  legally 
entitled  thereunto)  were  busy  at  casting  dice.  He  was  both  murderer, 
said  they,  and  thief,  this  Simon,  the  Jew. 

Then  spake  Simon  of  Cyrene  in  his  own  behalf.  To  no  purpose. 

Declared  Pilate,  “Thou  shouldst  indeed  be  executed,  0  Simon  of 
Cyrene,  that  the  fate  of  thee  and  of  Him  to  whom  thou  wast  a  fearful 
traitor,  might  be  a  resemblance  each  to  each,  yet,  as  a  sign  of  great 
commiseration  (which  thou  nowise  deservest)  I  do  commute  thy 
sentence  unto  imprisonment  in  the  Mines  of  the  Wretched  so  long  as 
thou  shalt  exist.  I  that  stand  for  Caesar  am  much  too  lenient  toward 
thee.  Besides,  in  the  Mines  we  shall  be  able  to  torture  thee  longer 
than  by  any  execution.’ ’ 

Then  took  the  soldiers  Simon  of  Cyrene,  and  burnt  these  letters 
in  his  forehead — “F-IJ-R,”  meaning  “T-H-I-E-F.”  By  this  name 
the  man  was  known  to  many  until  this  day. 

And  Ophidion  and  the  soldiers  jested,  saying:  “Simon  of  Cyrene 
is  now  a  man  of  three  letters” — which,  in  Rome,  meant  a  person  who 
was  a  member  of  some  noble  family. 

The  Jew,  then,  they  shackled  and  took  to  Caesarea,  where  they 


216 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


placed  him  on  a  galley,  nor  suffered  that  man,  before  he  embarked,  so 
much  as  to  kiss  the  soil  of  Palestine,  saying:  “It  is  mine.”  But 
they  declared  unto  him,  ‘  ‘  Thou  shalt  be  known  forever  in  this  world 
as  a  thief  and  as  the  plain  murderer  of  Jesus.” 

And  after  a  certain  period  in  which  he  escaped  from  their  hands 
and  was  again  and  yet  again  recaptured,  he  at  length  was  toiling  over 
the  waters,  which  mocked  him  with  their  bright,  innumerable  liberties. 

He  now  beheld  himself  for  that  he  was  yet  to  become — a  naked, 
half  starved  servus  pounce;  an  accepted,  a  brow-imbranded,  thief  ;  the 
plain  murderer  of  God’s  Innocence;  a  mere  caricatural  existence  of 
three  detested  letters  which  he  had  never  deserved,  and  of  a  sad, 
unpriestly  past. 

And  the  man  who  had  brought  these  things  upon  him — the  trial, 
the  conviction,  the  branding,  the  accursed  galley,  the  mines  of  the 
untold  happenings — that  man  was  a  solemn,  a  much  belauded  follower 
of  Jesus!  Pah! 

Away  with  crosses,  with  calvaries,  with  followers  of  J esus !  Away 
with  the  Nazarene  himself ! 

What  had  he,  a  beaten  servus  publicus,  a  man  of  just  three  letters, 
to  do  with  incarnations,  with  messages  from  Heaven,  with  things  of 
peace,  blessedness,  love? 

He  was  a  detestable  convict  now,  toiling  through  the  dust  and  heat. 
Only  a  dim,  triliterate  existence  he,  dragging  slowly  onward  toward 
the  terror  and  the  agony  of  the  unspeakable  mines.  What  had  he 
longer  to  do  with  this  upper  world  of  light  and  happiness? 

He  was  just  the  same  as  dead. 

That  shining  villa,  for  ensample,  lofty  on  the  side  of  the  green 
mountain,  with  its  glorious  xystus  of  innumerable  cloud-white 
columns  which  ran  down  lightly  to  the  cliff’s  sheer  margin — what 
had  a  servus  publicus  to  do  with  things  like  that?  Not  any  more 
than  a  corpse.  He  gazed  up  dully,  and  beheld,  in  the  xystus,  two 
massive  togsed  forms.  How  shiningly  arrayed  were  these — like  unto 
angels !  It  was  not  quite  possible  to  behold  the  faces  of  the  men,  but 
Simon  felt  that  they  were  surely  countenances  (however  high  above 
him)  of  kindness,  of  great  love. 

All  at  once  (he  knew  not  why)  but  an  intolerable  missile  (a 
pebble,  perchance,  which  at  so  great  a  height  came  like  a  thunderbolt) 
had  smitten  him  on  his  uncovered  head. 

He  fell,  not  knowing  the  matter  for  a  jest — a  side-splitting,  as 
well  as  head-splitting,  joke,  which  one  of  the  men  in  the  shining  gar¬ 
ments  had  perpetrated  when  he  had  seen  that  the  leader  of  all  this 
wretchedness  was  a  Jew. 


THE  SCHOOL 


217 


As  soon  as  Simon  beheld  the  world  of  life  again,  a  scourge  was 
embracing  him. 

When  he  arose  he  was  buffeted,  kicked  in  the  side.  Once  again  he 
fell. 

Then,  like  a  person  in  Hades,  the  man  marched  on — chief  wretch 
and  leader  of  all  the  wretchedness  of  this  earth. 

Ah  happy,  yet  unhappy,  Simon  of  Cyrene!  Thy  path  in  the 
coming  years,  will  it  wind  amid  rosy  plains  or  up  and  about  snowy- 
templed  terraces?  Poor  gigantic  crucifer!  Hitherto  indeed,  thou 
hast  had  some  quantum  of  contentment,  some  brief  companionship  and 
sociability,  some  softly-running  hours  of  sacred  joy,  the  blessedness 
and  peace  of  the  Lord  thy  God.  But  what  of  thy  future?  O  most 
stalwart  and  sadly  indestructible  cross-bearer,  thy  years  can  never  be 
the  same  as  in  Cyrenaica  and  Palestine.  Thou  hast  borne  Jesus’s 
cross.  Realize  the  cruciality  of  that,  0  Jew!  And  well  for  the 
rest  of  the  peoples  of  earth  (though  bitter  fact  enough  for  thee,  1 
trow)  that  thou  art  staunchly  stalwart,  fearfully  resolute  (if  some¬ 
times  faltering)  and,  of  an  absolute  verity,  not  to  be  destroyed. 

But  at  present,  thou  art  trudging  upward  toward  those  heaps  of 
scoria. 

Past  the  rejection  hills,  at  length,  he  went,  this  Simon  of  an 
almost  infinite  via  dolorosa,  and  round  the  shoulder  of  a  mighty 
mountain,  then  round  yet  another,  and  then  another  still,  and  all  at 
once  he  was  looking  down  into  a  chasm,  a  black,  sick  void,  so  vast, 
titanic  and  full  of  inscrutable  terrors  that  it  seemed  the  product  of 
Satanic  dream. 

“Halt!” 

Simon  and  the  other  wretches  stopped  stock  still. 

Now  he  gazed  yet  further  into  the  terrible  valley.  And  the  sun 
having  got  over  the  edge  of  a  mountain,  which  hitherto  had  hindered 
his  shining,  it  lit  up  there  a  strange,  delirious  profundity  of  space, 
and  of  deeps  in  further  deeps,  but  not,  even  now,  to  their  ultimate  in¬ 
teriors  and  unimaginable  depthy  bottoms.  Then  this  Simon  of  the 
Wretched  Downlook  began  to  perceive  that,  far  below,  a  number  of 
yellow  roads  were  carven  in  the  sheer  stone  walls  of  the  valley,  while, 
hither  and  yon,  ran  angling  bridges,  out  from  one  steep  chasm-side 
and  into  the  other.  Therefore  the  roads  zigzagged  from  rocky  wall  to 
rocky  wall  again,  down,  and  dowTn,  and  down — and  behold !  there  were 
small  black  openings,  at  irregular  intervals,  which  plainly  ran  far  into 
the  secrets  of  the  mountains.  And  naked  servi  publici  scampered  like 
pale,  unvalued  ants,  both  into  and  out  of  the  sickening  blackness  of 
those  holes.  Some  bare  heavy  baskets,  some — 


218 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


He  became  stupidly  aware  that  a  word  of  command  had  been 
issued  to  the  troop  of  which  he  formed  a  part.  Once  again — 

“Descend !” 

Beginning  at  the  rear  of  the  procession,  the  slaves  were  slanting 
their  bodies  to  disappear  along  a  declivity  which  Simon  had  not 
noticed  before,  but  which  led  down  into  the  sullen  cleavings  of  the 
earth. 

The  caravan  moved  but  slowly,  for  the  road  was  narrow,  and  the 
procurator  metallorum,  together  with  a  band  of  soldiers,  stood  close 
beside  its  entrance,  and,  as  each  and  every  slave  passed  down  into 
the  chasm,  the  procurator  made  a  small  notation  on  the  leaf  of  a 
tablet. 

Sometimes,  when  the  wind  was  right,  the  Bearer  of  the  Cross 
could  catch  the  wretch ’s  name,  his  number,  even  the  designation  of  the 
pit  in  which  his  body  was  to  work. 

A  number  of  soldiers  were  sent  along  the  road  to  guard  the  end 
of  the  procession  where  Simon  was.  Vain  precaution!  For  who,  of 
all  these  slaves,  could  ever  have  made  an  escape,  shackled,  and  with 
only  a  single  road  to  run  on — straight-up  mountain  walls  above, 
straight-down  precipices  below!  How  little  the  eagle  looked,  as  he 
circled,  mid-air,  to  and  from  the  pale  sides  of  the  mountains!  Oh 
the  irresponsive,  the  unfeeling,  mountains,  as  inexorable  they  as  that 
strangest  of  dreams  called  ‘  ‘  Time.  ’ ’ 

A  little  decurion  was  speaking  to  a  stately  tribune.  “By  the  very 
angel  of  the  Lord!  It  is  God’s  own  truth,”  said  he.  “Mine  eyes 
did  witness.” 

“But  it  absolutely  denieth  the  common  procedure  of  the  world.” 

“Thou  sayest  truly.  But  others  than  I  have  seen,  and  now  do 
know — our  own  centurion,  Longinus,  among  them.  The  earth 
trembled  and  groaned,  the  air  was  full  of  darkness.  The  veil  was 
torn  from  top  to  bottom  in  the  Temple.  And  many  that  had  slept 
in  deep  forgetfulness  rose  up  out  of  their  graves  and  were  seen  in 
the  public  streets  of  Jerusalem. 

“And  after  all  these  things  did  Joseph  of  Arimathea,  having 
obtained  permission  of  Pilate,  take  away  the  body  of  the  Man  and 
lay  it  in  his  own  tomb. ?  ’ 

Now  the  heart  of  the  Jew,  as  he  listened,  seemed  to  cease  for  a 
while  its  beating  in  his  bosom,  for  he  perceived  that  the  officer  of  the 
watch  was  speaking  about  Jesus.  And  he  experienced  a  strange  joy, 
a  sense  of  many  happy  things  to  come,  inexpressibly  perfect. 

“Jesus  arose  from  the  dead,”  went  on  the  decurion. 

“What  is  there  troubleth  yonder  Jew?”  cried  out  a  legionary. 


THE  SCHOOL 


219 


“Lift  but  a  finger  again,  0  dog,  and  I  will  kill  thee  straight.  The 
giant  is  oddly  agitated/  ’  he  remarked  to  the  tribune  of  the  troop, 
“and  clearly  intendeth  a  departure. ” 

Then  quoth  the  decurion  again,  “I  tell  thee,  Tribune,  that  Jesus 
arose  and  was  seen  by  many  which  could  not  be  in  error.  Pilate  did 
repent  him  that  he  had  given  judgment  against  Jesus,  and  Caiaphas 
and  all  that  were  with  him  in  that  sorrowful  matter,  lay  closely  hid, 
till  that  the  storm  had  blown  itself  to  pieces. 

“But  Jesus  arose. 

“The  Pharisees  had  set  a  watch  about  His  sepulcher,  lest  haply 
His  disciples  should  come  and  steal  His  body  away. — But  Jesus 
arose.”  And  he  described  all  the  marvelous  events  of  the  Resur¬ 
rection. 

He  spake  also  of  the  prophecies,  which  had  been  fulfilled  in  Christ. 
So  the  Tribune  cried,  at  length :  “  I  must,  hereafter,  learn  much  more 
about  Jesus.” 

But  the  decurion:  “The  prophecies  about  the  Jew —  Shall  not 
they  also  be  fulfilled  ?  ’  ’  But  what  he  said  further,  Simon  heard  not, 
for  the  procurator  of  the  mines  having  come  up  with  him,  cursed  him, 
and  spurned  him,  and  bade  him  march  on. 

Simon  at  first  believed  that  he  and  the  few  criminals  which  yet 
remained  were  also  to  pass  down  into  the  valley  where  the  bridges 
and  the  mines  were.  But  this  was  not  to  be. 

The  file  of  troops  wound  upward  into  a  country  where  the  face  of 
the  sky  was  covered  with  dark,  disordered  clouds,  mingled  with  great 
smoke,  and  where  the  sides  of  the  mountain  were  piled  with  heaps 
of  ashes.  Here  and  again  the  walls  of  the  mountain  were  punctured 
with  tiny  pits.  From  one  of  these  a  naked  man  with  great  scars  all 
over  him  came  running  breathless.  A  soldier,  following,  struck  him 
on  the  head  with  a  sword,  that  he  died  instantly. 

Then  said  Simon  in  his  soul,  “Did  Jesus  arise  from  the  dead? 
To  what  purpose?  But  all  such  things  are  lies.  For  behold,  even  I, 
a  priest  of  the  Almighty,  am  sentenced  to  such  a  life  as  that  which 
is  in  these  pits.  Would  that  my  soul  had  died  ere  my  body  was  born 
into  such  a  world.  ’ ’ 

Then  he  heard  again  the  voices  of  the  tribune  and  the  decurion, 
who  were  treading  close  beside  him.  The  decurion  was  saying  to  his 
fellow  officer:  “But  Jesus  saith  unto  him,  ‘Because  thou  hast  seen 
me  thou  hast  believed;  blessed  are  they  who  have  not  seen  and  yet 
have  believed.’  ” 

And  at  this  there  came  a  gleam  of  lightning  from  the  sky,  and 
the  voice  as  it  were  of  J ehovah  rolling  round  about  the  mountains. 


220 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


Then  the  Jew  in  his  heart:  “Oh  for  the  strength  of  a  thousand, 
and  vengeance  on  all  that  do  encompass  me!”  He  thought  on  the 
weakness  of  his  shackles,  and  how  readily  he  might  have  wrested 
swords  from  two  of  the  soldiers  (as  Lampadephorus,  long  ago,  had 
taught  him  the  way  to  do)  and  then  might  play  the  dimachasrus, 
cleaning  a  path  unto  light,  unto  life,  unto  eternal  liberty. 

But  his  hands  were  holden,  for  he  perceived  that  all  the  earth 
was  against  him,  partly  as  being  a  Jew  and  partly  for  better  reasons. 

So  he  marched  with  the  other  slaves. 

Presently  they  came  to  where  great  pans  of  golden  ore  were 
smelting,  and  he  passed  through  sheds,  betwixt  long  files  of  vessels 
wherein  lay  the  molten  gold  itself.  And  he  thought  ‘  ‘  This,  all  this,  is 
Caesar’s.  Had  I  had  but  a  little  more  of  Caesar’s  gold,  I  should  not 
now  be  a  slave  intended  unto  the  mines.”  Looking  at  the  gold,  he 
beheld  therein  his  own  weary  countenance.  He  shuddered  and  gazed 
in  another  direction,  for  he  was  sick  at  heart,  having  beheld  in  the 
gold  the  letters  on  his  forehead.  A  subprocurator  took  charge  now 
of  the  slaves,  and  brought  them  round  to  a  place  where  a  vast  hole 
was  that  ran  straight  down  into  the  mysteries  of  the  mountain.  As 
if  to  mock  the  weary  convicts,  the  clouds  tore  apart,  flooding  the 
world  with  a  heaven  of  splendor.  A  gigantic  windlass  sate  above  the 
hole,  and  the  windlass  was  turned  by  a  number  of  horses  moving 
round  and  round  eternally. 

Then  knew  Simon  of  Cyrene  that  here  his  course  as  a  man  was 
ended,  for,  from  out  these  mines  with  the  upright  shaft  (as  often 
he  had  heard)  the  slaves  came  never  into  light  again. 

The  procession  halted  and  formed  a  ring  of  sheer  woe  round 
about  the  pit. 

Said  one  of  the  officers  unto  another,  “What  is  the  name  of  this 
particular  mine? — for  I  know  that  all  of  the  mines  together  in  these 
many  mountains  are  called  ‘The  Mines  of  The  Wretched, ’  but  of 
this  particular  mine  I  know  not  the  name.” 

Said  another  officer,  “The  name  of  this  mine  is  ‘The  Nameless 
Mine’ — for  that  it  is  clearly  the  worst  of  all  the  mines  that  are,  or  have 
been,  or  ever  yet  again  can  be,  and  hence  no  fitting  name  could  be 
found  for  it,  and  they  that  named  it  named  it  only  ‘The  Nameless 
Mine’ — and  Hell  were  a  pleasant  place  by  the  side  of  it.” 

So  Simon  of  the  Blasted  Heart,  standing  quite  still,  and  knowing 
that  this  was  the  end  of  his  dear  looking  in  the  light,  gazed  over  the 
now  sun-filled  landscape. 

Beyond  the  scarred  and  scoriaed  rocks  and  the  long  black  sheds, 
and  the  farther-reaching  mountains,  he  could  just  discern,  as  he 


THE  SCHOOL 


221 


thought,  far,  far,  below,  a  tiny  plain,  a  little  landscape  woven  out  of 
light.  And,  winding  through  the  plain,  a  peaceful  river. 

The  windlass  groaned  louder  and  yet  louder.  A  vat  rose  up  into 
the  great  mouth  of  the  hole,  laden  with  Cassar ’s  ore. 

Six  slaves  ran  up  (0  happy  men,  suffered  to  work  here  in  the 
sunlight!)  and  received  the  precious  substance  in  monstrous  wicker 
baskets.  These  they  carried  to  the  sheds  where  the  crucibles  lay. 

Some  of  the  slaves  were  branded,  some  not.  And  Simon  knew 
that  they  that  were  branded  were  the  worst  hated  and  despised. 

And  all  of  the  newly  arrived  slaves  but  Simon,  at  an  order  from 
their  officer,  being  freely  unshackled,  stepped  down  into  the  vat,  the 
branded  and  the  unbranded  alike.  But  for  Simon  there  was  no 
room.  And  the  vat  descended,  and  all  the  men  that  were  standing  in 
it  were  looking  wholly  down. 

After  a  time,  the  officer  came  up  to  the  Jew,  and  spurned  him 
again,  and  buffeted  him  on  the  mouth,  saying:  “Is  it  worth  the 
while  of  officers  to  wait  for  the  vat  again,  when  only  a  Jew 
remaineth?  Moreover,  the  vat  hath  work  to  do  in  lifting  ore.  Get 
thee  down,  as  a  consequence,  into  the  deeps  of  the  mine  by  the  pegs 
that  are  fastened  in  the  wall  of  the  pit.  By  them  have  better  men 
than  thou  descended  when  the  vat  was  not  running.  When  thou  hast 
passed  the  openings  of  the  many  galleries  and  come  to  the  bottom¬ 
most  level,  and  canst  no  farther  go,  then  will  a  tall  man  appear 
before  thee  with  a  good  scourge.  He  will  take  thee  to  the  place  where 
thou  shalt  labor.  Descend !” 

At  that  the  man  spurned  the  Jew  once  more,  and  spat  upon  him. 
And  it  came  to  the  mind  of  Simon  that  he  should  kill  this  brute,  and 
getting  him  swords  from  the  soldiers  standing  by  make  a  happy 
departure.  Or,  if  he  died — that  also,  was  it  not  well  enough  ?  But,  in 
a  way  he  could  not  understand,  the  hand  of  the  Jew  was  holden  yet 
again.  He  seemed  verily  to  lie  beneath  some  great  compulsion.  As 
he  looked  back  over  his  life — which  he  did  in  the  one  second  wherein 
his  shackles  were  stricken  away — it  seemed  that  the  whole  of  his 
existence  had  been  only  a  matter  of  compulsion. 

He  gazed  at  the  distant  plain  once  more,  with  the  river  running 
through  it,  then  at  the  people  round  about.  Not  far  away,  the 
decurion  and  the  tribune  were  speaking  still  together  of  Jerusalem 
and  Jesus. 

He  looked  down  into  the  pit,  and  beheld,  at  first,  merely  a  horror 
of  darkness.  Next,  he  saw  the  nearest  of  the  pegs  whereof  the  officer 
had  spoken.  As  if  moved  by  unseen  hands,  he  got  down  over  the 
margin  of  the  pit,  beginning  to  descend. 


222 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


It  was  not  himself,  he  thought,  that  went  the  imperious  way 
to  further  wretchedness,  but  only  the  mere  shape  and  semblance  of  a 
man ;  the  ghost  of  a  person  in  whom  was  nothing  left  but  shame  and 
sorrow;  rather  a  bit  of  sheer  suffering,  or  super-suffering,  marble — a 
statue  in  the  process  of  being  carved  and  with  a  whole  infinity  of 
outraged  nerves  within  it,  underneath  the  hands  of  a  masterful,  a 
divine,  an  eternally  inexorable,  Compulsion. 


CHAPTER  XXX 

Conatus,  The  Man  Who  Was  Free  to  Choose 

Not  as  a  thing  moved  by  superior  forces  from  without,  but  as  a 
man  whom  his  own  free  volition  urges,  did  Trivialis  of  Cyrene  and  all 
the  countries  of  the  world,  go  down  into  yet  another  hateful  mine. 
And  there  he  labored  with  a  strange  incessancy. 

The  manner  of  his  going  was  this. 

On  the  day  when  he  had  felt  the  whole  earth  shaking,  after  it  had 
been  in  darkness  from  the  sixth  hour  to  the  ninth,  he  had  grown  high 
wondering  if  much  less  sorrowful,  and  had  thought  on  many  things. 

But,  when  the  morning  was  come,  he  considered:  “Eat,  drink, 
and  be  merry,  for  tomorrow  ye  may  die.  ’  ’ 

He  went,  therefore,  later,  into  the  pottery-market,  crying:  “Who 
will  undertake  to  supply  a  dinner  ?  Who  will  undertake  to  supply  a 
dinner?”  as  the  custom  was  among  them  that  would  let  the  making 
of  a  banquet. 

But,  of  a  sudden,  a  passer  caught  his  arm,  crying:  “Thief! 
Scoundrel!  Liar!  Give  me  back  my  purse,  thou  scoundrel,  thou!” 

But  Trivialis  pretended  he  knew  nothing  at  all  of  the  man ’s  bulga. 
And  when  the  man  would  have  pressed  him  further,  he  tore  from  him, 
and,  getting  his  feet  together,  ran  away. 

The  robbed  one  after. 

But  Trivialis,  he  of  all  the  countries  of  the  world,  understood  the 
devious  windings  of  the  city.  So,  in  a  trice,  by  doublings  and 
counterdoublings,  runnings  up  and  down  stairs,  and  dartings  in  and 
out  of  courts  and  also  along  galleries  and  through  waste  places,  he 
came  at  length  anear  unto  a  pile  of  broken  pottery,  and,  stooping  as 
he  ran,  gathered  up  the  bulga — which  he  had  dropped  there  on  an 
earlier  passing. 

And  after  many  days  he  found  out  Euryophthalmus,  and  they 
twain  went  into  a  wine-house,  and  became  a-drunken. 

They  passed  thereafter  into  the  temple  of  Chronos,  who  by  the 


THE  SCHOOL 


223 


Romans  is  called  Saturn,  a  decrepit  and  baldheaded  man  with  a 
scythe  in  his  hand.  The  father  of  Zeus  himself  was  Chronos,  and, 
thereby,  of  many  other  gods.  For  that  very  reason  mocked  these 
fellows  him,  saying:  “What  art  thou,  0  Time,  but  the  fit  subject  of 
a  joke,  and  also  all  the  other  gods  that  be,  seeing  these  are  the  sons 
and  daughters  of  Time  only  ?  ’  ’  And  they  flung  filth  on  the  statue  of 
Chronos,  and  cursed  both  him  and  his  twelve  descendants,  the  great 
celestial  deities. 

The  watch  came,  and  ran  after  the  fellows.  And  Euryophthalmus 
escaped,  but  Trivialis  stumbled  and  fell  to  the  ground. 

And  him  they  led  to  the  agora,  and  into  the  court  which  is  called 
Stoa  Basileios ,  or  Royal  Portico,  for  here  it  was  that  crimes  against 
the  gods  were  rightly  justiciable. 

There  the  fellow  was  set,  all  of  a  tremble,  in  the  presence  of  the 
angry  and  dusty  multitude  which  had  followed  him,  and  of  all  the 
watchmen  of  the  temple — them  that  had  fetched  him  hither.  But 
soon  he  beheld  again,  to  the  right  of  the  Stoa,  his  old  comrade, 
Euryophthalmus.  And  Euryophthalmus  made  a  mirthful  counte¬ 
nance,  which  caused  that  Trivialis  laughed,  and  then  Euryophthalmus 
made  off  again  to  safety. 

But  when  the  Archon  Basileus — he  that  would  try  Trivialis ’s 
cause — was  come,  then  the  mouth  of  Trivialis  dried  up  with  terror, 
and  his  heart  was  wax. 

The  Archon  sate  upon  his  high  seat,  and  read  at  first  an  ancient 
parchment  with  calm  intensity.  Nor  did  he  vouchsafe  to  look  down 
about  the  crowd. 

But,  after  a  time,  he  glanced  from  his  manuscript,  and  then  his 
solemn-seeming  eyes  rested  on  Trivialis.  Yet  was  his  mind,  as  before, 
playing  still  about  that  ancient  scroll.  And  Trivialis  laughed.  For 
the  fellow  never  could  be  serious  long. 

The  Archon  looked  upon  the  culprit  with  a  sad,  sweet  smile.  He 
said,  as  his  look  came  clearly  to  the  present  hour — 

“Have  I  already  adjudged  thee,  or  waitest  thou  still ?” 

Trivialis  laughed  again.  He  said,  at  his  ease:  “I  still  await,  O 
Archon  Basileus,  the  trial  thou  wilt  give.” 

“Knowest  thou,”  asked  the  judge,  “that  I  was  drifting  in  the 
mighty  past  ?  It  was  even  so.  For  behold,  the  present  is  a  very  little 
thing,  and  there  is  nothing  of  it.  And  all  the  great  are  dead.  All 
the  great  are  dead.” 

Trivialis  laughed  again. 

The  judge  looked  up  once  more  (for  his  eyes  had  again  gone  to 
his  book)  and  said,  “Thou  doest  well  to  laugh,  0  friend,  for  there 


224 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


is  nothing  now  that  is  worthy  of  more  than  laughter.  Thou  hast 
laughed  before,  too,  I  warrant,  to  judge  by  the  little  tiny  wrinkles 
a-playing  round  thy  mouth.  They  be  practiced  wrinkles,  they  be 
practiced  wrinkles.  ’  ’ 

Trivialis  laughed  once  more,  admitting:  “Yea,  they  be  practiced 
wrinkles,  O  Archon!”  And  he  thought,  “This,  of  a  truth,  will  be 
a  very  pleasant  judge/  ’ 

‘  ‘  Thou  art  an  Epicurean,  I  warrant.  But  no.  Thou  then  wouldst 
live  almost  entirely  within  thy  senses,  and  I  see  thee  better  than  that. 
Not  an  Epicurean?  Well,  then,  a  Stoic.  But  Stoicism  is,  at  bottom, 
nothing  but  pride;  and  we  need,  we  need — humility.  In  a  world 
like  this — but  after  death  (according  to  the  Stoics)  there  is  nothing 
for  us  but  cosmical  ruin.  Would  that  some  one  from  above  could 
give  us  a  great  assurance  of  life  eternal — and  of  life  worth  living 
eternally. — Thou  art  witty,  sensual,  mirthful,  forceful,  and  eloquent — 
but  not  of  much  force.  Ah  hum ,  I  am  sleepy.  What  is  thy  name  ?  ’ ’ 

‘  ‘  Trivialis.  ’ ’ 

“Trivialis.  Hast  thou  already  been  adjudged,  or  dost  thou  still 
await  me?  A  fitting  name,  methinks — Trivialis.”  He  smiled  once 
more  his  thin,  wan  smile,  as  were  he  a  very  great  man  all  aweary 
of  this  world,  yet  one  of  far  too  sweet  a  nature  that  he  should  care 
to  weight  a  fellow  being  with  his  own  weariness. 

“Whence  comest  thou?” 

“From  the  city  of  Cyrene,  also  from  everywhere.” 

“What  dost  thou  in  Athens?  Art  a  student?” 

“I  came  on  a  mission  of  revenge — for  all  men  have  revenges. 
But  behold,  the  revenge  is  accomplished.  Yet  there  is  still  another 
matter.  A  treasure  was  entrusted  unto  me.  I  have  squandered  it. 
For  I  am  light  and  merry  of  heart,  and  very  thoughtless.  I  was  even 
born  so.  When  I  have  no  master — I  am  nothing.  Now  my  master’s 
son,  which  is  Samson,  which  is  also  Solomon,  and  whose  home  is  in 
Cyrene,  or  else  Jerusalem,  he  is  a  priest  unto  the  world  for  the  sake 
of  Jehovah.” 

“Jehovah — I  have  heard  somewhat  about  Jehovah.  The  Jews — 
Jehovah.” 

Now  Trivialis  would  fain  have  spoken  out  before  the  Archon, 
yea  and  before  the  whole  world,  saying:  “I  can  indeed  inform  thee 
as  about  Jehovah.  He  is  the  Lord  of  Lords,  King  of  Kings,  Creator 
both  of  time  and  eternity.  So  much  I  have  learned,  yea  and  far 
more  also,  from  the  lips  of  Jehovah’s  priests,  even  His  chosen  people, 
the  Jews.”  But  the  man’s  heart  faltered,  and  he  spake  not  out  at 
all  concerning  Jehovah.  Instead,  saith  he — 


THE  SCHOOL 


225 


“I,  on  my  part,  have  no  message  unto  any  one.  May  the  gods 
take  care  of  themselves.” 

Then  the  Archon  frowned  deeply.  His  bright  blue  eyes  grew 
dark,  and  he  bent  them  on  the  frightened  Trivialis,  seeking,  as  it 
might  have  been,  to  pierce  that  man  to  the  soul.  “He  is  charged 
with  sacrilege,”  brake  in  the  officer  of  the  watch,  though  he  had  not 
been  asked,  “sacrilege  even  against  Chronos,  which  is  Time,  and  all 
the  other  gods,  which  be  Time’s  descendants.”  Said  the  Archon, 
“It  is  enough.  Come  hither,  and  stand  at  judgment  beneath  the 
tribunal,  fellow.” 

Went  up  the  trembling  caitiff  even  to  the  tribunal  itself,  seeking 
on  the  way  a  semblance  of  carelessness. 

“Fearest  thou  nothing?”  demanded  the  judge.  “Knowest  thou 
not  I  am  here  on  the  authority  of  Csesar?  In  a  way  I  am  Caesar. 
Knowest  thou  that  not,  and  fearest  thou  nothing?” 

“Nothing,  most  truly,  0  mighty  Archon,  in  all  this  endless  world 
nothing,  save  only  to  be  alone.  I  would  crawl  and  fawn,  like  a 
starved  dog,  to  the  foot  of  any  man,  though  he  were  a  beggar,  rather 
than  be  alone.  To  get  into  company,  there  to  laugh — that  is  all  I 
seek.  ’ 9 

The  Archon  dreamed  a  little  longer,  as  if  he  would  try  the  man 
upon  some  deeper  principle  which  he  had  nearly  forgot. 

Suddenly  he  fell  asleep. 

Trivialis  looked  upon  him  for  a  time  with  mingled  amusement 
and  sorrow.  The  splendid  old  Archon,  the  sweetly-smiling  Archon 
which  tried  to  understand  his  fellow  beings  that  he  might  do  unto 
them  beautiful  justice,  was  the  dying  flower  and  type  of  the  juris¬ 
prudential  portion  of  the  old  Greek  civilization,  that  gently  perishing 
past  which  still  was  kept  alive  for  a  little  by  the  hand  of  Caesar. 
And  Trivialis  perceived  this  matter  clearly,  becoming,  in  consequence, 
more  and  more  sorrowful. 

Now,  as  he  would  not  be  too  sorrowful,  he  began  to  look  again — 
to  the  right  of  the  open  Stoa — in  that  direction  wherein  he  had  afore¬ 
time  beheld  Euryophthalmus.  But  Euryophthalmus  had  gone  away, 
and  there  was  passing  by  the  side  of  the  Altar  to  the  Unknown  God — 
which  was  straight  behind  the  dais  of  the  Archon — a  beautiful  young 
man  of  mighty  stature,  who  seemed  to  be  compact  of  supernatural 
light.  And  with  him  was  a  woman  of  marvelous  beauty,  half  Jew 
and  half  Greek,  also  two  mere  striplings,  one  of  a  sweet  the  other  of 
ecstatic  countenance. 

All  at  once,  they  four  were  shut  out  of  view. 

And  Trivialis  heard  the  low  hum  of  the  city,  and  looked  up  to  the 

15 


226 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


red,  gray  rock  of  the  Acropolis,  and  beyond  to  its  uplifted  sanctuaries, 
then  off  in  the  way  of  Pirseus,  to  the  sapphire  sea.  Now  his  soul  was 
filled — that  soul  which  had  so  little  of  the  gift  for  true  beauty — 
with  a  hazy  joy  at  all  this  crystalline  loveliness.  He  began  to  long 
for  better  ways  of  life.  Yet  soon  he  took  notice  of  the  people’s  con¬ 
fused  hum  again. 

Then  heard  he  at  a  little  distance  these  strange  words  repeated: 
4 ‘Who  hath  seen  in  the  city  a  sombre  merchant,  Trivialis?”  Looking 
off  in  the  way  of  the  left,  the  man  before  the  Archon  beheld  the 
red-eyed  Euryophthalmus,  gazing  about  from  door  to  door,  like  a 
public  crier.  At  the  same  time,  Euryophthalmus  looked  up  suddenly 
unto  Trivialis,  as  he  had  not  seen  him  until  then,  and  shouted :  ‘  ‘  Why 
there  he  is!” 

Then  he  darted  away,  that  he  might  not  be  apprehended  by  the 
watch. 

But  the  Archon  Basileus  started  up  from  his  deep  consideration, 
saying :  “Yea,  yea ;  I  would  demand  of  thee  further  interrogatories.” 
He  smiled  again.  “Loath  am  I  to  punish  thee.  For  behold!  who, 
after  all,  doth  know  but  that  thou  and  thy  ways  are  quite  as  good 
as  I  and  mine?  Who  are  these  gods?  I  myself  know  not.  We  of 
the  present —  Art  thou  happy?” 

“I  can  at  least,”  said  Trivialis,  “forget  for  a  time  that  I  am 
sorrowful.  ’ 9  * 

“Sorrowful!  Thou  sorrowful?  What  sorrow  hast  thou  ever 
known,  0  trivial  one?” 

“This,”  said  Trivialis,  while  his  lips  trembled,  and  he  saw  that 
the  judge  loved  him.  “This — that  I  am  the  pitiful  butt  and  jest  of 
all  the  gods.  Even  for  this  do  I  deride  the  gods,  that  I  may  be  able 
to  forget  that  they  deride  me.  They  buffet  me  round,  and  I  know 
no  rest  from  them.  They  have  me  for  their  joke ;  and  all  the  things 
I  seek  to  accomplish  the  gods  make  into  nothing.” 

Then  leaned  the  Archon  softly  forward.  He  said,  “I  will  let  thee 
go,  0  Trivialis.  ’Tis  now  I  understand  thee.” 

And  behold,  he  was  very  wide  awake,  if  old. 

And  the  trivial  one  went  forth  from  the  Stoa,  and  sought 
Euryophthalmus.  But  him  could  he  not  any  wise  discern,  but,  in  his 
stead,  coming  directly  upon  him,  that  wondrous  man  of  mighty 
stature,  whom  he  had  aforetime  seen  passing  round  the  Altar  to  the 
Unknown  God,  and  around  about  whose  head  of  beauty  was,  as  it 
seemed,  a  living  light.  And  his  eyes  were  like  unto  coals  for  bright¬ 
ness.  Close  behind  him  were  the  woman  and  the  two  young  lads, 
also  of  a  so  great  beauty.  These  did  Trivialis  later  come  to  know 


THE  SCHOOL 


227 


as  Nea  Diatheka  and  as  Cheerfulness  and  Joy.  But,  at  the  present, 
he  did  not  know  them. 

Then  said  the  man  unto  Trivialis :  “Follow  me.” 

And  the  man  led  him  into  a  private  place,  so  far  that  at  length 
Trivialis  said  (for  he  had  begun  to  marvel)  :  “Whither  leadest 
thou  ? ’ ’ 

Said  the  man,  “Into  a  road  where  this  world  prevaileth  not. 
Come  on  further.  ” 

When  they  had  gone  yet  further,  then  said  Trivialis :  ‘  ‘  My  name 
is  Trivialis.  Here  make  I  my  stand  both  against  thee  and  against 
them  which  halt  behind  us.  Speak,  if  aught  thou  hast  to  say.  Speak. 
Let  me  be  the  sooner  at  liberty.’ ’ 

“To  make  thee  at  liberty  indeed,  it  is  that  I  would  speak  to  thy 
soul,  0  Trivialis.” 

Then  Trivialis  felt  in  his  heart  a  strange,  glad  confusion.  Saith 
he  unto  the  man,  “Say  on.” 

“I,  like  thee,  did  many  years  seek  to  hide  the  sorrow  of  my 
existence — both  in  the  fields  and  in  the  markets,  in  money  and  in 
wines,  in  folly  and  in  worldly  wisdom.  Yet  found  I  surcease  not. 

“But,  on  a  day,  I  heard  from  a  philosopher  that  salvation  is  of 
the  Jews,  eternal  happiness.  Faring  to  Jerusalem,  I  sought  there 
day  and  night  for  one  that  might  instruct  me  concerning  these  things. 
But  behold!  there  was  none  that  could  teach  me,  even  among  the 
very  wisest,  till — on  a  day — I  found — ” 

Then  brake  in  Trivialis  (for  in  his  secret  heart  he  loved  the  Lord)  : 
“Thou  foundest  Jehovah.  Thou  foundest  Him  also  very  far  away 
from  thee.  I  too  have  sought  Him,  and  I  found  Him — very  far  away. 
My  soul  is  still  in  darkness.  ’  ’ 

The  stranger  looked  at  Trivialis  with  a  sweet,  sad  ecstasy.  He 
answered  and  said  unto  him,  “I  found  Him,  and  He  was  close  at 
my  side.  I  found  Him  also  a  great  beacon  of  light,  yea  for  I  found — 
Jehovah- Jesus,  my  Savior  and  my  God.” 

The  man  stood  silent  for  a  very  long  time,  gazing  off  in  the  way 
of  Jerusalem. 

Then  he  looked  back  yet  again  with  even  a  sweeter  light  than 
hitherto  into  the  eyes  of  Trivialis — Trivialis  who  had  begun  to  feel 
strange  stirrings  in  his  blood,  blind  yearnings  and  unyielded 
obediences. 

And  the  man  spake  to  Trivialis  concerning  those  things  which 
Jesus  had  done  and  taught,  omitting  not  one  thing  that  was  known 
to  him. 

But  when  he  came  to  speak  (which  he  did  with  so  great  a  com- 


228 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


passion)  concerning  the  cruel  treatment  of  the  Lord,  then  declared 
his  listener,  weeping:  “Would,  0  Jesus,  I  might  have  been  beside 
thee,  in  thy  trials,  thy  sufferings,  there  to  render  thee  some  bit  of 
service!  Would  that  I  might  have  been  beside  thee,  0  my  Lord!” 

Said  the  man  with  the  shining  countenance,  “There  was  one  that 
truly  was  by  and  did  help  Him,  yet  by  force.  Yea,  one  and  one 
alone.  A  giant  from  Cyrenaica  he,  Simon  by  name,  known  aforetime 
unto  many  both  as  Samson  and  as  Solomon.  He  lifted  up  the  cross, 
and  bore  it  for  his  Lord.  And  much  hath  he  suffered  since  therefor, 
0  happy  crucifer.” 

“My  master’s  son!”  cried  Trivialis,  “Samson,  who  was  also 
Solomon,  the  son  of  Shem  ben-Noah,  ben- Adam,  a  priest  of  the  tribe 
of  Levi,  and  the  family  of  Aaron — a  type  of  Hebrew  spiritual.” 

“Even  he,”  declared  the  shining  one.  “Thou  hast  his  genealogy 
indeed  and  in  truth.  And  now  I  will  teach  thee  further  of  thy 
duties,  and  of  the  way  to  eternal  happiness  and  forgetfulness  of 
sorrow,  which  way,  namely,  is  Jesus.  For  behold,  He  and  He  alone 
is  the  way,  the  truth,  and  the  life — life  everlasting.” 

For  some  time  then  the  radiant  one  did  teach,  and  Trivialis  ques¬ 
tioned.  And  when  the  words  of  the  Light-bearer  were  at  an  end, 
then  Trivialis  cried  out:  “Tell  me,  prithee,  ere  thou  goest  (if  so  it 
shall  have  to  be)  precisely  who  thou  art.” 

The  shining  one  said,  “My  name  is  Christopherus.  Once  I  bore 
another  name,  but  now — behold,  they  call  me  Christopherus,  and  so, 
pray  God,  they  may  always  continue  to  do.”  And  he  beckoned  Nea 
Diatheka,  together  with  Cheerfulness  and  Joy,  and  presented  them 
unto  Trivialis.  Whereupon  he  took  that  man  to  a  gathering  of 
disciples,  and  having  heard  his  confession  publicly,  baptized  him. 

And  after  certain  days,  during  which  the  now  more  earnest 
Trivialis  consorted  from  time  to  time  with  Christopherus  and  with 
Nea  Diatheka  and  with  Simkah  and  Gheel,  these  latter  four  took 
shipping  unto  Italy  and  Spain,  for,  as  Christopherus  declared,  there 
was  work  in  every  land  which  they  yet  had  to  do.  And  Trivialis 
asked  that  he  also  might  become  an  evangelist.  Then  said  Christo¬ 
pherus,  “Wherever  thou  shalt  stand,  there  speak  unto  him  that  is 
next  thee.” 

And  Trivialis,  having  watched  their  ship  go  over  the  great  curve 
of  God’s  sea,  turned  back  into  the  Piraeus  weeping. 

And  came  and  abode  at  Athens,  where  he  dwelt  among  the 
brethren  many  days. 

But  ever  in  his  heart  was  a  longing  that  he  should  repay  that 
treasure  which  he  had  lost  in  dissipation.  In  divers  ways  sought 


THE  SCHOOL 


229 


he  to  do  this,  but  ever  he  came  forth  penniless  and  nearly  without 
hope.  Yet  he  would  ever  say  again  and  again,  “Shall  I  that  profess 
to  be  a  Christian  fail  to  pay  what  I  owe?  Am  I  not  steward  unto 
Shem,  hence  also  unto  Simon  of  Cyrene?  Then  will  I  pay.” 

He  went,  therefore,  unto  the  epitropos  metallon,  or  superintendent 
of  the  mines  (which  were  over  in  Laurion),  and  mentioned  unto  him: 
“Thou  needest,  I  hear,  yet  further  men  in  the  Mines  of  the  Free-to- 
choose.  ’ ’ 

Said  the  epitropos,  “I  need  them.” 

Said  Trivialis,  ‘  ‘  I  will  work  for  thee,  but  at  such  a  price.  ’  ’ 

Said  the  epitropos,  “Not  for  so  much,  but  for  so  much.” 

Trivialis  said,  “  I  do  bargain  therewith.  And  when  I  have  earned 
me  such  and  such  a  sum,  then  will  I  come  forth  out  of  the  mines 
again.  For  behold,  I  am  a  free  man,  and  not  under  any  compulsion 
that  I  should  do  this  thing.  But  willingly  I  do  it,  for  I  choose.  ’  ’ 

And  he  chose,  and  went  down  into  the  mines,  and  labored 
diligently. 

Nor  was  he  dull  or  cheerless,  but  sang  the  song  of  the  frogs  out 
of  Aristophanes,  again  hymned  the  psalms  of  David.  And  the  hearts 
of  his  fellow  workers,  which  often  had  been  sore  troubled,  were 
uplifted  into  much  peace. 

And  when  Trivialis  had  laid  by  all  the  drachmae  needful  to  the 
paying  of  him  he  owed,  then  went  he  not  forth  immediately  from  out 
the  mines  again.  For  behold,  he  had  formed  a  habit,  to  w7it,  that 
of  loving  money  for  its  own  sake.  Therefore,  after  he  had  saved  a 
sufficiency  to  pay  his  debt,  yea  and  much  more  also,  still  he  did 
choose  to  remain  in  the  mines,  and  to  hoard  up  more  and  more. 

Therefore  not  wholly  unscathed  went  he  forth  at  last  from  the 
mines  of  Them  That  Are  Free  to  Choose.  And  it  happened  in  this 
way.  On  the  day  when  he  would  indeed  have  gone  forth,  behold,  a 
great  cask  of  oil  (which  was  there  for  the  lamps)  and  which  sat 
beside  the  place  where  all  the  man’s  accompts  and  all  his  moneys 
were,  took  fire.  And  he  fought  the  flames  valiantly,  and  saved  his 
accompts  and  moneys.  But  his  face  was  seared  from  his  forehead  to 
his  chin.  And  he  breathed  the  heated  air,  that  even  his  voice  forever 
after  was  altered. 

Yet,  when  he  wished,  he  went  forth  out  of  the  mine. 

Nor  was  either  of  the  man’s  two  eyes  an-injured.  But,  from  the 
day  when  his  wounds  were  healed,  behold,  he  found  that  he  had  no 
countenance  at  all,  nor  was  in  any  wise  (at  least  to  outward  seeming) 
made  in  the  image  of  the  Lord.  But  whenever  he  tapped  with  a 


230 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


finger-tip  upon  his  face,  there  issued  a  sound  as  it  were  of  hollow 
wood. 

And  he  went  on  a  day  to  Corinth,  there  to  exchange  the  silver  of 
the  mines  for  Roman  gold.  This,  when  he  received  it,  he  buckled 
round  his  body,  and  set  forth  unto  Athens,  and,  on  the  way,  being 
beset  by  robbers,  he  overcometh  them,  rejoicing  and  crying:  “ Behold ! 
I  am  victor,  and  I  am  fain  to  laugh.  ” 

But  he  met  in  the  road  a  harlot.  And  she  blandisheth  him,  and 
getteth  him  well  a-drunken  at  an  inn  hard  by,  and  so  robbeth  him, 
and  hath  him  cast  out  into  the  fields. 

When  he  awakened,  it  still  was  night,  yet  not  that  night  whereon 
he  had  met  the  harlot.  In  his  head  was  a  living  flame  of  fire.  And 
his  hands  and  feet  and  all  his  limbs  were  stiff  with  cold. 

He  ariseth  with  difficulty  and  looketh  all  round,  wondering  who 
he  now  may  be,  even  as  the  original  Adam  might  have  done  when 
first  he  had  tasted  wine. 

Then  a  knowledge  and  understanding  of  the  earlier  night  began 
to  fume  and  float  in  his  flimmering  mind.  He  passed  an  icy  palm 
across  his  face  and  forehead.  Then  he  felt  the  hard,  wood-like  scars, 
and  laughed.  “I  am  fain  to  laugh,”  said  he,  1  ‘but  I  laugh  without 
pleasure.  ’ ’ 

After  that  he  gave  a  sudden  cry,  a  shrill  ascending  shriek  of 
despair.  For  he  had  found  that  he  had  been  robbed. 

And  the  man  beat  upon  his  breast  and  declared,  “My  name, 
henceforth,  shall  be  ‘Conatus,  ’  for  I  am  but  An  Attempt — a  mere 
effort,  aye  and  a  vain  one  truly.  And  I  will  never  tell  my  former 
name  to  any  man.  Nor  shall  they  ever  find  me  out.” 

Then  the  man  without  a  face  stumbled  and  felt  his  way  to  a  little 
spring  that  flowed  hard  by.  There  sought  he  to  wash  his  distorted 
countenance,  but  could  not,  for  sheer  weakness. 

And  behold !  he  perceived  coming  up,  on  the  far  side  of  the  water, 
one  whom  he  knew  with  great  sadness,  even  a  friend  of  Christopherus, 
Thrasus  Neus,  a  very  shining  person. 

And  he  cried  in  his  soul,  ‘  ‘  My  God,  my  God,  can  I  face  this  man — 
him  that  hath  helped  me  so  many  times  ere  now?” 

But  Thrasus  Neus  came  around  the  pool,  and,  having  ministered 
sweetly  unto  him,  so  that  Conatus’s  courage,  by  little  and  little,  arose, 
he  asked  the  wretch :  “Who  art  thou,  sorrowful  brother?” 

Then  said  the  man,  “I  am  one  that  did  enter  the  bowels  of  the 
earth  in  sore  travail,  that  I  might  become  able  to  pay  a  debt  I  owed. 
And  I  got  me  all  the  silver  which  I  required,  yea  and  much  more  also, 


THE  SCHOOL 


231 


and  behold,  even  as  I  sought  to  save  the  silver  and  the  accomptings 
from  utter  destruction,  I  did  come  by  these  hideous  scars.” 

Then  said  Thrasus  Neus,  whose  name  meaneth  “New  Confidence,” 
“I  understand  thee  who  thou  art.  Thou  hast  done  the  best  thou 
couldst:  no  man  more.  And  indeed  it  is  often  thus,  my  brother; 
as  we  strive  to  get  silver  and  gold,  even  for  the  best  of  purposes,  we 
come  off  hatefully  changed  for  life  and  unrecognizable,  and  never¬ 
more  the  same  men.  But  suffer  me  now  to  assist  thee.  ’  ’ 

He  took  him  to  a  place  where  other  good  Christians  abode,  and 
there  left  him. 

And  Conatus  remained  with  the  brethren  many  long  days. 


CHAPTER  XXXI 
At  the  End  Face  of  the  Wall 

Now  when  Simon,  having  begun  to  enter  the  mine  by  a  strange 
Compulsion,  and  having  gone  past  the  various  openings  which  led  to 
innumerable  galleries,  at  length  had  passed  the  last  of  these,  he  found 
that  there  were  no  further  pegs  whereon  to  place  his  feet.  And  yet 
he  had  not  come  anigh  unto  the  shaft’s  bottom. 

He  gazed  far  up  in  the  way  whereby  he  had  descended.  And 
behold,  at  a  mighty  distance,  there  was  a  tiny  circle  of  sapphire  set 
with  glorious  stars — the  opening  of  the  shaft,  or  pit,  against  God’s 
sky.  Then  he  heard  beneath  him  a  groaning  and  words  of  direction 
shouted,  together  with  foul  curses. 

And,  down  below,  the  vat  began  to  rise  in  the  shaft.  It  neared 
him,  passed  him  swiftly,  and  sailed  on  up  the  passage.  Some  of  the 
blocks  of  ore  began  to  fall  over  the  edge  of  the  vat,  when  that  was  at 
a  great  height  over  him,  and  to  strike,  rebounding  repeatedly,  against 
the  shaft  walls.  Then  his  heart  was  sore  afraid,  and,  looking  down, 
he  saw7,  on  the  floor  of  the  shaft,  a  patch  of  faint  light. 

So  he  said,  “It  is  far  to  that  light,  but  yet,  to  ascend  again  I 
dare  not.” 

So  he  took  a  mighty  breath  and  relaxed  his  hold.  When  he  had 
recovered  his  senses,  he  was  lying  in  the  middle  of  a  dim  chamber 
in  the  rock.  And  a  man,  as  it  seemed  of  iron,  stood  over  him, 
belaboring  him  unceasingly. 

So  the  Jew  arose,  and  the  man  that  had  scourged  him,  both  spat 
upon  him  and  spurned  him.  Others  took  away  his  poor  apparel. 
And  they  gave  him  instead  thereof  (at  the  first)  a  breach-clout  for 


232 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


his  nakedness.  In  after  years  it  rotted,  like  a  cerement,  away,  and 
fell  from  him,  and  never  was  replaced. 

At  the  present  they  gave  him  also  a  heavy  mallet  and  a  chisel. 
Strange  attire  for  priest  of  Adonai ! 

Alas,  poor  priest! 

Then  the  man  that  had  scourged  him  (he  that  had  seemed  of 
iron)  bade  him,  with  curses,  that  he  should  follow  in  the  way  wherein 
he  would  point  with  his  finger. 

Went  Simon  whithersoever  the  finger  pointed. 

And  hurrying  forms  were  all  about  him,  some  of  men  and  some  of 
women.  And  all  were  mostly,  or  else  wholly,  naked  and  were  bearing 
burdens — some,  baskets  filled  with  gold-bearing  rock,  others  buckets 
of  ordure.  Two  men  carried  the  half-corrupted  corpse  of  a  young 
girl. 

And  they  passed  (the  Jew  and  his  iron  guide)  through  winding 
tunnels  and  dim,  damp  galleries,  and  exceeding  narrow  places  which 
slowly  arose  and  yet  again  suddenly  descended,  or  that  widened  into 
torch-lighted  chambers  and  afterward  contracted  into  passages 
wherethrough  the  journey ers  were  wholly  fain  to  creep  on  hands  and 
knees  or  wriggle  like  imprisoned  serpents. 

There  were  rooms  where  tiny  shafts  came  through  the  roof. 
Under  some  of  these  lesser  holes,  a  fire  of  wood  was  burning.  Through 
the  shafts  that  had  no  fires,  the  fresh  air  came. 

After  a  time  they  reached  a  room  wherein  could  be  heard,  but 
as  something  far  away,  a  continual  sound  of  multitudinous  clicking. 

And  from  that  they  went  on  further,  and  the  clicking  grew 
louder,  until  they  entered  a  chamber  where  hundreds  of  slaves  were 
hard  at  hammering  little  chisels  into  the  walls  with  wooden  mallets. 

Took  the  iron  man  the  J ew  to  the  end-face  of  the  wall.  Said  he : 
‘ 1  Take  thy  mallet  and  thy  chisel :  strike.  Cut  much  ore  away.  Sleep 
on  this  straw.  Speak  never  to  any.”  He  shackled  a  heavy  chain 
on  the  Jew’s  ankle,  and  riveted  the  furthest  link  thereof,  at  a  little 
way  apart,  into  the  solid  rock. 

Now  lifted  up  the  Jew  his  mallet  and  his  chisel,  and  drave  the 
chisel  deep  within  the  stone.  And  he  felt,  as  he  drave  that  blow, 
that  it  was  the  first  of  an  endless  succession  of  blows.  His  heart 
was  heavy  in  his  bosom,  and  he  wished  he  were  dead. 

As  he  wrought  on  in  the  mine,  he  began  to  sorrow  because  he  had 
not  loved  enough  his  dear  wife  and  little  boys.  He  had  not  had 
time  enough  (so  he  believed)  to  love  them,  to  speak  to  them  as 
tenderly  as  he  had  wished  to  do.  No  time?  Why!  why  should  there 
ever  have  been  a  minute  for  anything  else? 


THE  SCHOOL 


233 


And  now? 

Now  there  was  nothing — God  knew — but  time.  God’s  priest — 

Tink!  tink!  tink! 

Yea,  there  was  time  enow. 

Tink,  tink,  tink!  Tink-a-tink!  Tink-a-tink,  tink,  tink! 

How  the  multitudes  of  chisel-voices  cried  at  him !  like  the  sarcastic, 
eternally  unsilenceable  tongues  of  the  Nations!  “  Tink-a-ty-tink ! 
Tink-a-tink-tink.  Thou-hast-time-enow !  Thou-hast-time-enow,  enow ! 
Time  enow,  enow,  enow!”  The  metallic  subdivision  of  his  endless 
space  of  imprisonment  into  moments,  each  little  fraction  whereof  was 
a  kind  of  eternity  in  absolute  Gehenna,  began  to  tease  and  craze  the 
corners  of  his  being.  He  tried,  therefore,  solely  by  way  of  diversion, 
to  sermonize  to  himself. 

“No  time!  no  time!  no  time! 

“So  it  will  be  when  time  is  swallowed  in  eternity.  We  shall  have 
had  no  time ! 

“  ‘I  had  no  time’  (we  say)  Ho  love,  to  live,  to  bless,  to  think,  to 
dare,  to  do.  No  time!  no  time! 

“  4  No  time  to  pray. 

“  ‘No  time  to  be  just. 

“  ‘No  time  to  ask  forgiveness  of  a  friend.  No  time,  no  time — ’  ” 

He  began  to  believe  that  strange  actual  voices  were  calling  out  to 
him  amidst  the  innumerable  clickings  of  the  chisels.  Then,  as  he 
listened  more  intently,  he  perceived  that  the  words  which  he  seemed 
to  hear  were  rhythmic  to  his  own  eternal  chisel’s  clicking. 

“You-will  nev-er  leave-this  place-alive!  You-will  nev-er  leave, 
you-will  nev-er  leave  you-will  nev-er,  nev-er  nev-er —  You-will  nev-er 
leave-this  place-a-live !  You-will — ” 

So  went  the  chisel,  accompanied  by  innumerable  other  chisels,  over 
and  over  again,  one  unending,  insane  chorus.  His  heart  grew  faint 
and  fainter,  for  he  saw  that  the  words  must  be  true. 

Well,  what  of  the  priesthood  now?  God,  thou  didst  promise! 

What  sorry  hierophant  was  this,  a  quivering,  nigh  naked  wretch, 
with  shackles,  chisel,  mallet,  and  certain  interminable  insane  fancies— 
voices  and  the  like  ? 

God’s  sacerdos  at  the  end-face  of  the  wall !  God’s  pity  upon  God’s 
sacerdos ! 

It  came  to  his  mind  that  the  task  which  Adonai  had  laid  upon 
him  had  been  too  great  for  even  his  mountainous  shoulders.  Who 
was  there,  0  El-Shaddai,  could  have  stood  beneath  such  a  load? 
Was  his  flesh  of  brass,  were  his  bones  iron? 

God ’s  priest ! 


234 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


Let  him  pray.  He  prayed.  They  could  not  keep  him  from 
praying. 

The  procurator  of  the  mines  came  up  anigh  to  him — an  officer  of 
Caesar,  to  see  that  all  about  this  man  (especially)  was  well. 

All  seemed  to  be  well — for  Caesar. 

The  procurator  spurned  the  Jew,  and  went  back. 

Certain  nameless  things  called  food  were  later  doled  out  unto 
Simon — solely,  be  it  known,  for  the  sake  of  Caesar. 

He  ate  these  morsels  hurriedly,  and  then  continued  to  work  with 
unremitting  obedience  at  the  end-face  of  the  wall. 

After  a  time  he  was  told  he  might  sleep. 

He  quickly  slept. 

Or,  rather,  he  became  unconscious,  and  saw  strange  visions — there 
on  his  little  flat  patch  of  straw. 

Did  he  really  sleep  ?  What  is  sleep  ?  He  had  forgotten,  truly. 

By  reason  of  the  shifts,  the  work  was  ever  on.  Certain  men  were 
told  at  times  that  they  might  stop  labor  long  enough  to  rest  them¬ 
selves  upon  the  straw — but  there  was  no  interruption  in  the  great 
task.  They  knew  not  whether,  in  the  world  above  (these  living 
corpses)  day  prevailed  at  any  given  time  or  night.  The  work  went  on. 

The  work  went  on. 

There  never  was  any  stop  in  the  multitudinous  clicking,  the  taking 
out  of  gold.  The  mines  were  wholly  Caesar’s.  So  also  were  the 
slaves.  Caesar  must  be  pleasured.  The  work  went  always  on. 

Why  did  God  permit  such  things  ? 

There  was  never  an  attempt  at  the  reformation  of  any  slave. 
Neither  was  any  thought  at  all  (as  it  seemed)  of  actual  punishment. 
There  was  only  work  and  work  and  work — and  cruelty.  The  scowl, 
the  curse,  the  blow,  the  kick,  the  scourge,  the  hot  iron — the  sword, 
sometimes,  for  those  who  were  not  sufficiently  compliant. 

Others  died  without  the  sword,  and  they  too  went  out  with  the 
ordure. 

If  a  slave  grew  sick,  he  had  to  get  well  soon.  Slaves  were  numer¬ 
ous,  mines  were  crowded,  the  courts  of  justice  in  the  upper  world — 
they  worked  hard  too  (as  it  seemed)  and  were  very  successful. 

Hail  to  the  Roman  law !  The  Jew  had  been  told  in  Mauretania  by 
Lampadephorus  that  the  Law  of  Rome  was  the  height  of  human 
wisdom,  the  ideal  of  justice. 

Justice!  Why  did  God  permit —  And  God’s  priest!  Adonai, 
thou  hast  forgotten. 

So  the  priest  without  a  temple  travelled  round  the  endless  ring 
of  the  endless  years  like  a  mere  blind  ass  at  a  mill.  It  was  now 


THE  SCHOOL 


235 


the  eyes  of  him  took  that  set  expression  on  of  insufferable  sadness, 
such  as  all  the  world  hath  never  seen  (either  before  that  time  or 
since)  in  the  eyes  of  others  of  the  children  of  God — whereby,  to  the 
day  in  which  I  write,  a  man  may  be  sure  to  know  a  Jew,  or  a  man 
with  Jewish  blood  in  him. 

Sometimes  he  had  the  impression — this  intensely  visualizing 
Simon — of  alternately  waking  and  dreaming,  without  being  fully 
conscious  of  the  change.  From  which  condition  there  arose  for  the 
husband  of  Machashebethel  certain  inevitable  consequences.  Hence, 
in  fact,  he  saw,  even  as  Jacob  of  old  had  seen  (only  in  moments  of 
greatest  depression)  the  glorious  heavens  flung  open,  and  a  ladder 
sent  down  into  the  earth — yea  to  the  deepest  depths  in  which  he 
labored.  And  the  angels  ascended  and  descended  bodily  before  his 
time-intoxicated  eyes. 

But  mostly,  for  him,  there  was  misery. 

He  lost  no  faith  in  El-Shaddai.  He  was  still  as  constant  (perhaps 
more  constant)  than  when,  as  a  lad,  he  guarded  his  father’s  sheep 
in  Cyrenaica.  He  had,  for  a  single  matter,  no  leanings  unto  idolatry, 
nor  any  unto  skepticism — of  which  he  had  heard  in  a  kind  of  way 
from  Lampadephorus.  Still,  his  soul  grew  steadily  more  and  more 
rebellious  against  his  lot — a  condition  in  which  the  seed  either  of 
idolatry  or  of  skepticism  may  without  trouble  take  root. 

Oh,  the  wretched,  the  shameful,  existence!  Simon  could  behold 
nor  plan  nor  purpose  therein. 

Still  other  changes  now  took  place  in  the  soul  of  that  saddened 
giant  of  a  priest.  First,  he  began  to  remember  too  plainly  the  pans 
of  gleaming  gold  which  he  had  seen  in  the  crucible-sheds  as  he  came 
along  through  them  toward  the  pit  that  led  down  into  this  mine.  He 
remembered  in  fact  the  unspeakable  wretchedness  of  his  face,  as  he 
had  looked  in  the  golden  glory  of  those  vessels. 

Three  bright  letters! 

Had  but  one  of  the  pans  been  his,  in  the  long  gone  years,  those 
letters  (which  had  burnt  down  into  his  inmost  soul)  had  never  been 
set  into  him.  So  he  thought. 

And  he  felt  once  more  the  stirrings  he  had  known  in  the  days  of 
Bethlehem  and  Petra,  yea  in  those  farther  days  as  well,  when,  a 
shepherd  lad,  he  had  watched  the  caravans  of  horses  go  angling  by 
the  pastures  of  old  Shem,  laden  with  unimaginable  merchandise.  Yet, 
after  all,  a  priest — should  a  priest  drive  caravans  and  yearn  for  pots 
of  gold? 

Three  letters !  Whenever  the  supervisor  kicked  Simon,  he  almost 
always  shouted :  ‘  ‘  Thief !  ’  ’ 


236 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


The  Jew  began  to  consider  the  ways  of  Apodoter,  that  magus  of 
successful  business.  How  he  had  known  to  use  the  long,  strong 
fingers  of  silver  and  of  gold !  Simon  recalled  the  oft-repeated  tempt- 
ings  which  that  man  had  set  before  him.  “Let  the  sheep  alone,  0 
Judaeus,  and  let  alone  also  the  dyeing  of  plodders’  garments.  Instead 
thereof,  trade.  Mind  not  the  little  rules  of  Parush — contrary  to  the 
which  thou  saidst  thou  wouldst  do  when  again  thou  earnest  to  Jeru¬ 
salem.  But  get  thee  much  money.  Then  will  the  people  of  the  whole 
earth  take  thee  by  thy  garment’s  hem,  and  kiss  thee,  and  worship 
thee — yea,  more  even  than  Jehovah  will  they  worship  thee.” 

Well,  here  was  gold  enow — for  Caesar. 

Why  not  gold  for  Simon  of  Cyrene? 

He  began  to  consider  the  things  which  he  (this  miserable  Simon 
of  the  endless  strokes)  could  do  with  a  quantity  of  gold — if  only  he 
were  once  more  out  of  the  mine. 

He  began  to  have  visions,  about  this  time,  which  were  harder  to 
distinguish  from  reality  than  any  that  had  come  before  them,  and  in 
which,  of  a  truth,  his  feet  were  taken  hold  upon,  and  he  was  wor¬ 
shipped.  He  began  to  think  he  saw  his  own  bright  sails  on  every  sea, 
his  caravans  in  every  desert.  Up  every  mountain  climbed  his  strings 
of  well  fed  asses.  He  beheld  himself  in  boundless  mansions,  which 
were  filled  with  sweet  marmorean  treasures.  Caesar  himself  came 
humbly  into  his  presence,  asking  about  the  appointment  of  certain 
procurators  to  difficult  provinces. 

Then  he  recovered  in  an  instant,  and—  What  a  jest ! 

At  present  he  had  but  a  little  breech-clout.  No,  that  miserable  rag 
had  rotted  away  long  years  ago.  He  had — nothing  but  three  letters. 

Still  he  dreamed  of  wealth  and  influence.  Bars  and  ingots  were 
up  above  in  the  sunlight !  He  had  seen  them,  bars  and  ingots  S  There 
was  strength  in  his  arms  yet,  the  strength  of  a  thousand  tigers.  And 
the  strength  of  Adonai,  was  not  that  his  also?  Had  it  not  been  his 
from  the  beginning  ? 

His  soul  grew  stronger  even  than  his  flesh.  In  fact  ’twas  filled 
with  a  wild,  preternatural  pent-up  cleverness  and  sagacity.  He  could 
bring  easily  before  him  now  all  the  teachings  he  had  ever  heard  from 
Lampadephorus,  from  Apodoter,  from  Parush.  There  was  nothing, 
as  it  seemed,  which  he  could  not  remember  and  behold  upon  the  walls 
of  stone — written  too  in  letters  of  bright  and  burnished — 

Gold! 

Gold!  Such  an  aureate  thirst! 

“God  give  me  gold,”  so  he  prayed  each  moment,  “give  me  gold, 
God!  And  God,  be  thou  my  God  of  gold.” 


THE  SCHOOL 


237 


One  day,  as  he  worked,  the  supervisor  of  the  place  came  in,  and, 
with  him,  a  man  whispering  in  his  ear. 

Ophidion ! 

At  first  he  thought  (this  priest  of  the  Almighty)  that  he  would 
kill  them  both.  But  that — that — would  it  not  terminate  forever  his 
dreams  of  gold?  He  kept  on  cutting  the  quartz  away  as  calmly  as 
possible,  and  listened. 

“ Silence,  Supervisor,’ ’  hissed  the  snake  (more  loudly  now). 
“  Surely  it  is  seen  of  all  that  I  myself  am  comites  principis.  Caesar 
holds  me  assiduously  in  his  breast.  Suspicion  will  not  assail  us.  See ! 
it  is  solely  safe.  But — silence,  silence.  Whisper  it  not,  0  Supervisor, 
without  these  mines.  Silence!” 

Then  said  he  (and  the  Jew  had  much  ado  to  hear  him) :  “In 
Calaguris  is  a  woman  which  knoweth  thee  and  liketh.  (He  whispered 
her  name.)  Her  would  I  have  thee  marry — I  have  paved  the  way.” 

“But  I  possess  already  a  wife.” 

“Tell  this  woman  not  about  her .  And,  for  a  justification,  recall 
the  Old  Covenant.  Had  not  even  Abraham,  God’s  very  Chosen,  more 
than  one  only  woman  unto  his  wife  ?  And  many  another  of  the  later 
Chosen  also  ?  That  did  they.  And  thou  art  no  better  than  they  were. 
— And  when  thou  art  married  unto  her,  then  cut  her  throat.  Her 
jewels  divide  with  me.” 

“I!” 

“Thou.” 

“Knowest  thou  not  I  incline  to  the  religion  of  Jehovah?  Not  as 
yet  a  proselyte,  but  still — it  may  be — ” 

“Fool!” 

‘ 1 1  would  not,  at  least,  commit  murder.  ’  ’ 

“Murder?  What  said  the  Lord  unto  the  Jews,  even  as  He  led 
them  to  the  Land  of  Promise?  Said  He  not  unto  His  very  children 
and  priests,  4 Kill,  kill,  kill,  kill,  kill,  kill,  kill?’  ” 

“Yea.  He  said—” 

“And  divide  her  beautiful  jewels  with  me,  for  this,  that  I  have 
paved  the  way  for  thee.  ’  ’ 

Then  again  said  Sarcogenes :  i  i  Thou  hast  an  enemy  in  Numantia, 
who  is  also  mine.  Him,  when  thou  hast  riches  from  the  woman  thou 
shalt  kill,  him  kill  also,  that  we  both  shall  be  revenged.  ’  ’ 

‘ 1  Revenged !  ’  ’ 

“Aye,  revenged.” 

“There  was  One  that  taught — ” 

“But  consider  the  Old  Covenant:  An  eye  for  an  eye,  a  tooth 


238 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


for  a  tooth.  Take  thou  at  the  same  moment  thy  revenge  and  mine. 
As  for  justification,  hearken  yet  further.’ ’ 

Pie  went  off  into  a  great  exposition  of  the  Old  Covenant,  whereby 
he  would  have  it  appear  that  Jehovah  was  a  god  of  nothing  but 
revenge. 

And  having  done  this,  he  set  before  the  man  full  greater  matters 
also.  And,  each  and  every  time,  he  did  appeal  to  the  Old  Covenant, 
distorting  and  maiming  the  sense  thereof  to  his  own  base  purposes 
solely. 

Then  at  length  said  he,  1  i  Thou  knowest  that  the  children  of  Israel, 
whenas  they  left  Egypt,  did  take  with  them  the  jewels  of  silver,  the 
jewels  of  gold,  and  all  the  shining  raiment  of  the  Egyptians,  all  of 
which  most  properly  belonged  unto  the  Egyptians  themselves.  And 
yet  the  Lord  did  say,  ‘Take  them:  ye  shall  spoil  the  Egyptians.’  So 
that,  thereby,  we  know  that  the  Old  Covenant  doth  justify,  upon  an 
extraordinary  occasion,  the  taking  of  the  goods  of  others.  This  just¬ 
ification  I  give  thee  not  in  arrears,  but  in  advance,  lest  thy  craven 
heart  complain  of  what  I  am  about  to  propose  unto  thee  further — the 
greatest  plan  of  all,  both  for  thine  own  welfare  and  for  mine.”  He 
whispered  again  in  the  supervisor’s  ear. 

“And  whither  ought  all  the  gold  to  be  shipped?”  asked  the  Super¬ 
visor,  more  loudly. 

“Solely  to  the  Subura,  I  tell  thee,  unto  mine  own  insula.  See 
thou  to  it.  See  that,  in  my  house,  in  the  second  atrium  thereof,  it  is 
safe  bestowed  beneath  the  mosaic  floor.  Stab  then  the  servants  who 
have  brought  the  treasure  with  thee,  safe  bestow  them  also. — Then 
shall  I  come.  And  we  shall  live  in  sweetest  luxury  (thou  and  I, 
suspicious  epitropos)  having  countless  treasures,  which  shall  be  for  us 
alone.  ’  ’ 

“But — shouldst  thou,  0  Sarcogenes,  weaken  in  thy  project — ” 

“Weaken!”  Ophidion  laughed  his  old-time  laugh  of  mockery  and 
deep  scorn.  “I  weaken!”  He  cursed  at  first  loudly,  then  in  a 
whisper.  “Why!  even  of  late  (besides  the  time  I  have  spent  with 
great  Caesar)  in  Arabia,  in  India,  in  Egypt,  Mauretania,  Palestine — 
in  all  the  lands  where  I  have  sojourned  (and  I  have  made  me  fools 
in  all  of  them) — I  have  known  no  weaknesses.  In  case  of  offered 
violence — ”  He  laid  his  great  right  hand  on  the  left  skirt  of  his 
cloak. 

“I  understand  thee,”  said  the  epitropos,  quaking:  “but  Caesar — 
Doest  thou  this —  Doest  this  because — thou  lovest  me  or  hatest 
Caesar  ?  ’  ’ 

“Love  thee!”  responded  the  mighty  one.  “I  hate  both  thee  and 


THE  SCHOOL 


239 


everybody,  man  and  woman.  But  hearken.  See  thou  do  the  thing  I 
order,  and  I  will  divide  richly.  If  thou  doest  it  not — ” 

“I  fear  Cassar  also.” 

1 ‘  Caesar !  ’  ’  The  man  burst  into  a  rage  of  cursing.  ‘  ‘  Caesar !  Caesar 
is  I.  For  yet  I  will  control  great  Caesar.  But  damn  thee  and  thy 
doubtings.  Wilt  thou  do  as  I  bid  thee,  be  rich  and  live,  or  wilt  thou 
surely  die?”  He  drew  his  sword. 

“I  will  do  as  thou  biddest,”  cried  the  wee  one  of  the  mines.  “I 
promise — I  swear  to  thee — I  will  even  worship  thee  as  a  god.  Only 
see !  I  say  it  shall  be  done,  all  things,  in  the  very  way  thou  desirest. 
The  woman,  the  jewels,  the  man  to  be  revenged  upon,  the  gold  of  the 
mines  and  everything.  Thou  shalt  see  that  what  I  speak  is  the  sum 
and  substance  of  a  great  truth. 9 1  At  that  he  fell  upon  the  rock,  and 
supplicated  with  hands  stretched  up. 

Therefore  Ophidion  put  away  his  sword,  and  the  twain  departed. 

And  when  they  had  gone,  the  Jew  looked  far  about  the  room — a 
thing  he  had  done  seldom.  And  he  saw  that  another  supervisor  was 
in  charge  now,  a  man  of  kindly  manner  who  had  no  cudgel  or  whip. 
The  man  came  to  the  place  where  the  Jew  was  working,  and  gave  unto 
him  further  straw  and  food  and  certain  kindly  expressions,  then 
went  his  way,  until  the  procurator  came  in,  and  began  to  enter  with 
him  in  talk. 

They  twain,  thereupon,  both  the  supervisor  of  the  room  and  the 
procurator  of  the  whole  mine,  began  to  walk  about  the  place  to  see  if 
all  the  slaves  were  working  properly,  and  if  all  the  rules  were  being 
obeyed. 

“I  tell  thee,  Philanthropos,  ”  said  the  procurator  to  him  beside 
whom  he  walked,  “thou  art  far  too  easy  on  these  toilers.  ‘Blows/  I 
say  to  thee,  ‘and  then  more  blows/  And  if  any  resist  thee,  or  be  in 
any  kind  unprofitable  unto  Caesar,  slay  thou  them  instantly.  Why 
not  crosses  in  these  rooms?  There  is  plenty  of  space.  And  a  slave 
or  two  crucified  each  day  would  be  as  a  salutary  lesson  unto  many 
others.  ’ 9 

Then  related  Philanthropos  unto  his  companion  (whose  name,  it 
seemed,  was  Anelemon,  which,  interpreted,  meaneth  “Pitiless”)  how 
that,  in  a  certain  city,  many  years  ago,  before  that  his  own  name  had 
been  changed  from  Misanthropos  unto  Philanthropos,  he  had  been 
much  vexed  by  a  young  slave  of  his  (not  strong)  that  had  failed,  each 
day,  to  break  the  sum  of  the  stone  which  he,  even  Misanthropos,  had 
cruelly  required  of  him. 

And  he  crucified  that  man. 

“And  lo,  as  the  man  was  already  perishing  (having  been  upon  the 


240 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


cross  three  days)  he  cried  in  a  piteous  voice,  ‘‘0  Presbuteros,  Presbute- 
ros!  Adelphos,  mine  own  sweet  older  brother,  hadst  thou  been  here, 
or  known  these  things,  they  would  not  thus  have  come  upon  me.  ’ 

‘  ‘And  behold,  0  Anelemon,  ‘Presbuteros’  was  the  name  which  had 
been  given  unto  me  in  my  very  early  youth,  by  mine  own  infant 
brother,  Agapytus,  ere  a  band  of  pirates  had  stolen  him  away  from 
us,  the  only  brother  I  had  had.  And  we  never  more  had  seen  that 
son  and  brother. 

“I  cried  to  the  man,  ‘Art  thou  indeed  Agapytus?’ 

“He  said,  ‘That  I  am,  and  once  was  I,  as  my  name  implieth, 
extremely  beloved.  But  who  art  thou,  then,  thus  to  inquire  of  me?’ 

‘  ‘  ‘  I — I — I — I  am  Presbuteros,  thine  own  elder  brother,  but  whom 
thou  couldest  not  heretofore  know.’ 

“I  hewed  the  cross  down,  unpinned  the  flesh,  and  would  have 
succored  my  brother.  But  he  saith,  ‘I  perish.  Thou  also  couldst  not 
know  thy  brother.  But  are  not  all  men  indeed  as  brothers?  There¬ 
fore  we  might  truly  have  known.’ 

“Since  then  I  have  sought  to  ease  somewhat  the  sufferings  of  the 
humble :  is  it  not  little  enow  that  I  can  do  for  these  ?  ’  ’ 

And  Anelemon  looked  upon  the  man  with  amazement,  saying: 
“  Philanthropos,  I  tell  thee  thou  art  mad.  Pitiest  thou  these  filthy 
slaves  ? ’  ’ 

“I  pity  them,”  said  Philanthropos. 

Then  laughed  Anelemon  long  and  with  great  scorn.  When  he 
had  finished,  he  said :  “I  think  thou  shouldest  be  one  of  those  foolish 
Christians.  Believest  thou  any  man  could  be  thy  brother  that  was 
not  such  in  the  flesh?  This  miserable  Jew,  for  ensample,  believest 
thou  he  could  be  as  a  younger  brother  unto  thee?  Or  this  bonded 
Greek,  in  shame  and  nakedness?  Believest  thou?” 

“Listen,  0  Anelemon,”  cried  Philanthropos,  “I  say  to  thee  with 
all  my  heart  and  soul  and  mind  and  strength  that  I  do  love  both 
these  men.  Though  they  be  wretched  workers  in  the  mines,  they  are 
unto  me  as  younger  brothers.  Would  God  I  might  die  for  them!” 

Anelemon  fell  wholly  silent,  and  the  two  walked  away. 

But  Simon  of  Cyrene,  who,  in  this  fashion,  had  had  his  attention 
brought  to  the  “bonded  Greek,”  now  gazed  upon  that  man,  and  saw 
he  was  large  and  strong,  and  that  his  countenance,  surrounded  by  a 
halo  of  bright  hair,  was  filled,  despite  his  wretchedness  and  labor, 
with  cheerfulness  and  joy  and  inexpressible  love. 

And  the  Jew  marvelled  greatly,  for  he  could  not  understand  how 
such  a  look  could  be  on  the  face  of  any  man,  least  of  all  on  one 
laboring  in  the  mines. 


THE  SCHOOL 


241 


Of  a  sudden,  the  Greek,  striking  a  glancing  blow  on  his  chisel, 
knocked  that  instrument  from  his  hand. 

And  there  darted  over  to  him  an  Ethiopian,  also  a  slave,  as  far 
as  his  chain  might  reach,  and  sought  with  a  certain  bungling  courtesy, 
to  pick  up  the  Greek’s  chisel  and  restore  it  unto  him.  But  the  black’s 
chain  suffered  him  not  that  he  should  do  this  thing. 

And  he  turned  back  to  his  own  work,  but  not  or  ere  Simon  had 
seen  on  his  forehead  the  fearful  word,  imbranded,  “Despicatus” 
(The  Despised). 

Then  it  came  to  Simon  over  and  over  that  he  must  have  seen  that 
sunny-headed  Greek  before.  He  toiled  the  harder  that  he  might 
perchance  think  where  that  could  have  been.  But  the  more  he  tried 
to  remember,  the  less  it  seemed  possible  so  to  do,  and  yet  the  more 
certain  did  it  appear  to  him  that  he  had  somewhere,  on  a  distant 
day,  beheld  this  man. 

By  times  he  would  have  believed  that  the  man  was  Lampadephorus. 
But  Lampadephorus,  he  knew,  was  dead.  Besides,  was  not  this  man 
far  younger  than  Lampadephorus  was,  even  when  first  he,  Simon,  had 
beheld  him?  Then  it  came  to  his  puzzling  mind  that  this  was  the 
person  whose  cross  he  had  borne  up  Calvary.  But  at  that  he  struck 
great  chips  fast  out  of  the  walls,  so  that  many  slaves  began  to  notice, 
and  he  was  fain  to  grow  as  it  were  aweary  again.  At  length,  it 
appeared  to  him  that  this  was  the  man  he  had  seen  on  Calvary, 
whenas  the  Crucifixion  was  done,  and  which  had  rushed  westward, 
crying  in  a  great  voice:  “Unto  all  the  world,  unto  all  the  world!” 

But  howsoever  these  things  might  be,  he  knew  that  the  image  of 
the  Greek  had  been  from  aforetime  in  his  heart,  and  that  his  shining 
countenance  was,  for  him,  the  Jew,  like  a  sweet  song  from  heaven. 

So  he  loved  the  Greek,  and  cherished  his  presence. 

And  he  began  to  have,  in  a  mysterious  fashion,  a  premonition  of 
some  great  good  that  was  soon  to  come  to  him  from  the  sunny- 
headed  Greek.  Ah!  That  man  would,  on  a  certain  hour,  point  the 
way  from  these  mines,  give  him  liberty  and  life !  That  was  the 
blessed  thing.  He  was,  about  this,  quite  certain.  So  superstitious 
and  incapable  of  judging  soberly,  doth  a  man  become  that  liveth 
deep  down  in  the  mines,  and  that  laboreth  at  the  end-face  of  an 
eternal  wall. 

It  was  just  about  this  time  that  the  sunny-headed  Greek  was,  on 

a  day,  unshackled  from  the  rock  even  by  the  procurator  himself. 

“Thou  shalt  labor  in  a  place  apart,”  said  the  procurator  unto  him, 

“where  no  other  man  shall  be  beside  thee,  and  where  there  is  no  ray 
16 


242 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


of  light — except  when  one  cometh  to  give  dole,  or  new  tools,  or  to  see 
if  the  stint  be  accomplished.  ’ ’ 

Then  took  he  the  Greek  away  with  him.  And  the  Jew  said  in 
his  heart,  “This  man  was  unto  me  as  a  younger  brother.  Would  I 
might  have  succored  him.  Would  also  Messiah  were  come.” 

Not  much  later,  the  same  man  came  and  led  away  the  Jew,  and 
placed  him  in  a  room  where  he  had  to  work  upon  the  farthest  wall  in 
utter  solitude  from  every  living  thing,  and  in  absolute  Tartarean 
darkness. 

Oh  the  Greek !  What  a  joy  his  presence  had  been !  The  worker 
at  the  end-face  had  not  known  he  would  so  miss  the  Greek.  And 
liberty — what  of  liberty  now?  Here  was  darkness,  silence,  con¬ 
finement. 

The  man  stopped  chiselling,  and  harkened.  As  if  from  some 
imagined  world,  the  far  tink-tink  of  chisels !  They  were  companion¬ 
ship,  those  sounds.  There  was  yet  life  for  him  indeed.  He  thanked 
God  that  still  there  remained  that  tiny  coupling  of  his  life  with  life  in 
others. 

He  worked  again  immediately,  being  fearful  of  the  great  darkness. 
Moreover,  he  must  do  his  stint. 

He  used  to  chisel  purposely  in  such  a  way  that  the  sparks  would 
fly  from  the  wall  in  the  greatest  profusion.  This  light  was  also 
company  to  him.  He  was  not  wholly  alone  so  long  as  the  sparks 
lasted.  Thanks  for  even  the  bright  accompaniments  of  labor! 

Then,  too,  there  was  God,  Jehovah.  Even  in  the  mines,  Jehovah 
liveth.  “Thou  art  ever  with  me,  0  God.”  At  times,  however,  he 
was  very  bitter  toward  Jehovah.  He  still  believed,  as  in  ancient 
Cyrenaica,  on  God,  but  his  heart  grew  more  and  more  rebellious.  Was 
his  flesh  brass,  were  his  bones  iron  ? 

His  thoughts  were  also  often  on  Jesus,  that  man  for  whose  sake 
he  had  borne  the  contaminating  tree.  Would  he  had  never  seen 
Jesus!  “Bear!”  Well,  he  was,  of  a  verity,  bearing. 

He  knew,  however,  the  sweetness,  as  well  as  the  compulsion,  of 
the  word:  he  had  not  forgotten:  and  yet  he  was  very  bitter  toward 
Jesus.  Oh  the  day,  the  day,  the  day,  he  had  come  in  from  the  north¬ 
ward  country!  The  cloud  of  dust,  the  multitude,  the  soldiers,  Jesus 
and  His  cross,  the  sudden  fall  of  the  Convicted,  the  swift  command 
and  the  scourging  of  his  own  contaminate  shoulders.  Then  the  sweet 
word,  “Bear.”  Let  him  think  no  more  about  these  things.  He  did 
not  believe  on  Jesus:  Ophidion  believed  on  Jesus. 

So  this  man  that  did  not  believe  on  Jesus,  told  over  and  over 
again  the  gray  beads  of  woe,  the  black  beads  of  despair. 


THE  SCHOOL 


243 


However,  he  recalled  the  word  of  Jesus  repeatedly.  But,  each 
time,  he  said  again :  “No  more  of  that.  If  only  Messiah  were  come, 
with  a  sword  that  would  put  an  everlasting  end  to  sin  and  to  the 
Nations!  Oh  Messiah!  Messiah!  Messiah!” 

To  turn  his  bewildered  mind  from  torturing  thoughts,  Simon 
began  to  ask  of  nothing  certain  curious,  eager,  and  rather  unhealthful 
questions :  for  the  problems  of  philosophy  come  natural  to  a  man — 
slave  or  prince,  or  priest  or  poet,  or  whosoever  faceth  a  stone  wall. 

What  is  sin  ?  Why  did  God  make  sin,  or  permit  sin  to  be  ?  Why 
is  suffering?  For  the  matter  of  that,  just  who  and  what  am  I? 
Whence  did  I  come  ?  What  was  the  genesis  of  my  being  ?  Why  am  I 
in  this  world  of  sin  and  suffering  and  matter,  and  whither  shall  I  go, 
when  I  finally  leave  it?  How  can  free  will  be,  or  necessity — both  of 
which  would  seem  to  stand  impossible  ?  What  is  this  world  of  sin  and 
suffering  and  matter?  Why  did  God  create  it?  Why  did  God 
make  man?  Why  did  God  make  anything?  And  what  is  God,  and 
what  are  matter,  space  and  time  ? 

For  a  very  long  period  he  pondered  especially  the  nature  of 
matter,  space  and  time.1  Now,  Simon  of  Cyrene  was  not  a  master  of 
these  august  subjects  as  yet,  a  fact  he  partly  realized,  and  still  he 
would  take  in  his  mind  a  question  or  so  about  them  and  roll  it  around 
and  around. 

He  recalled,  as  concerning  space,  the  views  of  an  old  master  of 
Lampadephorus,  who  had  said  that  space  is  “the  home  of  all  created 
things.”  But  Simon  asked  of  himself,  “My  soul,  is  not  that  truly  a 
created  thing?  Yea,  but  its  home,  then,  is  that  in  space?  If  it  truly 
be,  then  whereabout  in  space  doth  that  home  lie?”  And  the  philoso¬ 
pher  had  said  moreover  (as  Simon  recalled)  that  space  is  immaterial, 
being  not  a  created  thing,  but  the  home  of  such  things.  And,  further, 
as  it  never  had  been  created,  it  was  therefore  indestructible  and 
eternal.  “But,”  saith  Simon,  “why  an  eternal  home  for  that  which 
is  only  ‘temporary’?” 

Then  began  Simon  to  ponder  something  else:  Is  space  divisible 
infinitely?  “I  will  consider,”  said  he,  “the  smallest  bit  of  space 
I  can  think  of.  Even  then  I  can  think  of  a  sub-division  of  that  space. 
And  so  on  without  end.  Any  bit  of  space,  therefore,  is  composed  of 
an  infinite  number  of  smaller  bits  of  space.  But,  if  this  be,  then  how 
is  motion  possible? 

“For  a  body  to  move  a  mile,  a  furlong,  or  an  inch,  ’twere  all  the 
same,  for  it  hath,  in  any  case,  to  cover  an  infinite  number  of  points, 

1  See,  inter  alia,  Efros,  “Problem  of  Space  in  Jewish  Mediaeval  Philosophy” 
(Columbia  Univ.). 


244 


SIMON  OF  GYRENE 


which,  whatever  the  rate  of  speed,  would  require  eternity  for  its 
performance.  But  motion  doth  actually  occur  in  the  world  of  space, 
which  is  also  that  of  time.,,  And  so  he  had  proved  the  very  same 
thing  to  be  both  actual  and  impossible. 

Then  again,  Is  space  movable  ? 

Then  again,  Doth  space  grow  old? 

Then  again,  and  this  would  puzzle  him  much  more :  “Is  God 
omnipresent?  For  God  is  a  spirit,  therefore  hath  He  no  dimensions, 
no  extension.  But  ‘  omnipresence  ’  meaneth  presence  everywhere. 
And  if  God  be  not  extended  into  any  place  at  all,  then  is  He  truly  not 
only  not  omnipresent,  but  He  is  not  in  any  place  whatever.’ ’ 

Then  another  thing — for  he  could  not  keep  his  mind  from  think¬ 
ing,  however  vainly.  “  Spirit  doth  occupy  no  space,  and  matter  is 
that  which  occupieth  space.  So  far  so  good.  But,  then,  how  doth 
there  come  to  exist  a  communication  of  any  sort  or  kind  betwixt  my 
soul  and,  let  me  say,  the  solid  walls  of  these  so  awful  galleries.  How 
can  my  soul  send  forth  into  space  a  ray  which  cometh  back  out  from 
space  again,  and  so  informeth  my  soul  about  that  wall  in  space?1 * * 
What  and  where  is  the  bridge  betwixt  no-space  and  space?  How 
is  the  gulph  crossable?  It  seemeth  to  be  crossed  unceasingly.  Un- 
crossable  and  yet  unceasingly  crossed!” 

Then,  at  another  time,  he  saith:  “My  soul  is  in  my  body,  and 
that  which  is  in  anything  occupieth  space,  and  that  which  occupieth 
space  is  matter.  But  my  soul  is  not  matter.  My  soul  is  in  my  body, 
and  yet  it  is  not  therein !  * 9 

Then  he  said  again,  “If  my  soul  is  in  my  body  (and  that  cannot 
be  denied)  then  is  it  in  all  of  my  body?  If  so,  then  were  a  limb  cut 
off,  I  should  lose  a  portion  of  my  soul.  But  the  soul  is  indivisible,  not 
being  makable  into  two.  Then  again,  if  it  be  not  spread  in  all  my 
body,  in  what  small  portion  of  my  body  doth  it  lie?  Can  it  indeed 
be  anywhere,  being  not  in  space?”  He  thought  not,  but  concluded 
that  his  soul  was  still  in  the  bosom  of  God,  a-dreaming.  But  how 
should  a  soul  which  lay  a-dreaming  in  the  bosom  of  Adonai  dream 
such  dreams?  The  walls  of  stone!  The  hammer,  the  chisel,  the 
shackles !  The  failure  as  a  priest ! 

“Ah,  Adonai,  Adonai !  Wouldst  thou  permit  that  a  soul  which  lay 
within  thy  bosom  should  dream  such  dreams  ? 

“And  if  not  in  thy  bosom,  then  why  permit  such  dreamings  any¬ 
where  at  all ?  0  Lord  of  my  Fathers,  do  answer  me!” 


1  A  prevalent  theory  of  vision  in  those  days  was  that  the  eye  sent  out  rays 

to  the  object  looked  at,  and  that  then  these  rays  returned  to  the  eye  with 

information. 


THE  SCHOOL 


245 


Placing  the  Lord  upon  a  kind  of  trial — there  at  the  bar  of  rock 
and  chisel,  hammer  and  three  letters — he  demanded  again  and  again 
a  reason,  a  reason.  Like  Lampadephorus  of  old,  he  would  have  a 
reason.  Why,  0  Lord,  didst  thou  make  TIME,  with  all  its  conse¬ 
quences — motion,  matter,  space,  sickness  and  pain  and  death,  sin  and 
abhorrence,  the  Devil,  Ophidion?  Why  wast  not  content  to  dream 
thy  sweet,  timeless  dream  throughout  eternity? 

“Canst  thou  justify  thy  painful  dream  called  ‘Time’?  A  man, 
by  thinking,  cannot  discover  thee,  0  God,  but  might  he  not  be  able 
to  comprehend  a  reason  which  thou  shouldst  give  him?  Come  down 
in  the  flesh,  0  Adonai,  that  we  may  understand.” 

Thus  far,  Simon  was  only  a  human  being  astir  about  things 
which  have  certainly  occurred  to  all,  even  children. 

He  soon,  however,  instead,  began  to  recall  more  clearly  and  more 
in  detail  the  teachings  he  had  received  on  these  and  similar  matters 
from  the  lips  of  Lampadephorus — teachings  which  had  come  from 
Milo  and  from  Xenophanes ;  from  Heraclitus,  Empedocles  and 
Democritus ;  also  from  Socrates — who  had  borne  a  certain  resemblance 
unto  Jesus.  Most  of  all,  however,  he  recalled  Pythagoras,  with  his 
mystic  number-symbolism,  and  Plato  with  his  doctrine  of  ideas,  and 
Aristotle,  that  man  who  had  seemed  to  behold  very  plainly  both  this 
world  and  the  next. 

And  now  he  began  to  discover  (for  the  first  time  in  his  life)  what 
he  deemed  to  be  absolute  discrepancies  between  the  implied  old 
doctrines  of  the  Jewish  law  and  the  clearly  expressed  theodicies  and 
other  teachings  of  the  Greeks.  At  this  he  was  troubled  in  soul.  He 
therefore  pondered  deep  and  long,  and  not  a  hammer-blow  he  gave 
that  did  not  start  some  new,  strange,  and  more  or  less  deplorable  idea 
in  his  mind. 

Then,  one  day,  there  came  to  him  the  idea  of  all  ideas.  He 
would  reconcile  the  teachings  of  the  Greeks  with  the  doctrines  of  the 
Law.  Both,  he  felt,  were  true,  in  fact  unquestionable.  They  were 
therefore  surely  reconcilable.  Then  he  laid  this  down  as  axiomatic, 
that  the  Law  of  the  Lord  is  the  source  and  standard  of  all  truth. 
The  Law  was  the  root  and  trunk,  Greek  philosophy  the  branches. 
To  harmonize  the  branches  with  the  trunk,  he  constructed  marvellous 
allegories.  And  on  these  he  fully  believed.  Here  in  the  mines  it 
caused  little  difference,  the  use  one  made  of  one ’s  intellectual  energies. 
But  after  a  while  the  allegories  palled  upon  Simon.  Then  it  was  that 
he  turned  his  attention  solely  to  what  he  remembered  of  Plato  and 
Pythagoras.  His  mind  began  to  play  strange  tricks.  He  adopted  the 
wildest  systems  of  interpreting  the  Bible,  and  these  he  called  Gema- 


246 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


tria,  Notaricon,  and  Themurah.  By  the  first  he  converted  the  letters 
of  a  word  (or  passage)  into  numbers,  then  employed  the  arithmetic 
value  of  the  whole  to  explain  the  sense  of  the  passage.  By  the  second, 
each  letter  of  a  word  was  regarded  as  the  initial  of  some  other  word, 
and  thus  a  cabalistic  sentence  was  secured,  which  gave  him  an 
explanation  of  the  word  with  which  he  started.  By  the  last  of  the 
methods,  the  Themurah,  he  transposed  the  letters  of  a  word  or 
sentence,  and  so  obtained  enlightenment. 

He  also  elaborated  certain  enormous  systems  of  belief,  which  he 
called  the  Yetzirah  and  the  Zohar.1  By  these  he  attempted  to 
explain  the  natures  of  the  finite  and  the  infinite ;  time  and  eternity ; 
matter  and  space  (in  a  word,  the  world)  and  God.  He  supposed  that, 
out  from  God,  had  come  ten  emanations,  or  Sephiroth,  and  so  he 
attempted  to  bridge  the  impassable  gulf  which  lay  between  him  and 
his  Maker,  but  the  more  he  tried  to  build  that  bridge,  the  farther 
the  Maker  stood  away  from  him.  The  old,  old  longing  he  had  felt 
while  still  a  shepherd  boy  with  crook  and  psalter  in  the  fields  of  far 
Pentapolis  was  again  resurgent  in  his  breast.  To  touch  the  very  Lord 
himself,  to  feel  of  His  garment,  to  behold  Him,  to  know  Him  as  he 
might  have  known  a  father  or  a  brother!  “ Jehovah!  Jehovah!  That 
I  might  come  anigh  unto  thee !  ’ ’ 

Perhaps  the  long  confinement,  the  incredible  suffering,  had  forced 
some  shadowy  reflection  of  the  Infinite  into  the  chambers  of  his  half- 
ruined  brain.  If  so,  he  was  never  able  to  express  that  great  reflection 
clearly.  He  thought  that  he  sifted  and  separated,  clarified  and 
deepened,  but,  in  truth,  he  only  commingled  and  confused,  darkened 
and  superficialized.  The  long  confinement  and  the  hard  servitude ! 
He  had  strangely  deteriorated. 

He  also  began  to  notice  (being  here  in  the  darkness  alone,  and, 
for  the  most  part,  wholly  unguarded)  an  increasing  tendency  to  hold 
long  conversations  with  himself.  He  was  often  surprised  to  discover 
that,  throughout  the  course  of  such  a  one-man  talk,  his  lips  were 
absolutely  motionless — in  fact  were  tightly  sealed,  so  that  he  could 
not  have  opened  them  articulately,  even  if  he  would.  He  had  too 
(at  rare  intervals)  a  feeling  of  inexpressible  humility.  He  sometimes 
seemed  to  himself  to  be  lower,  far  lower,  than  the  stinkingest  excre¬ 
ment.  Did  not  even  the  buckets  of  ordure  go  up  for  a  time  into  God ’s 
sunlight?  Then,  one  day,  he  heard  a  voice  adjure  him:  “Courage! 
for  I  am  always  with  thee !”  At  another  time,  the  voice  came  nearer, 
and  said:  “Is  this  microcosm  or  macrocosm V’  And  behold!  the 


1  See,  for  example,  Waite,  “The  Doctrine  and  Literature  of  The  Kabalah.” 


THE  SCHOOL 


247 


solid  wall,  of  mingled  rock  and  darkness  cracked,  as  it  were,  and 
revealed  to  his  night-intoxicated  eyes  a  cosmophanic  phantasmagoria 
of  unimaginable  brilliancy  and  effect.  “The  world!  The  world! 
Sunlight !  ’  ’ 

When  he  had  staggered  to  his  feet  again,  the  world  had  vanished, 
and  he  kept  on  chiselling. 

Not  long  after,  the  world  appeared  once  more.  This  time  it  stayed 
a  while,  and  he  saw  it  as  never  his  eyes  had  seen  or  man  or  beast,  or 
field  or  sky,  in  the  world  of  actuality.  In  the  bosom  of  the  solid  rock 
he  beheld  a  symbolical  procession  of  all  the  human  forces  and  weak¬ 
nesses  which  tread  the  stage  of  earth,  and  all  in  relation  to  his  own 
mission :  Kings  and  queens,  which  walked  ever  forwards  backwards, 
being  pressed  on  by  the  multitude;  hunchback  zanies  in  foolishest 
apparel  but  speaking  straightest  wisdom ;  long-bearded,  gigantic 
philosophers  stumbling,  ever  stumbling,  because  of  the  nets  which 
they  themselves  had  woven  about  their  own  feet ;  harlots  (some  in  red 
and  some  in  white)  ;  priests  that  laughed  inwardly  and  priests  whose 
faces  were  like  happy  prayers;  lovers  and  murderers,  sailors  and 
farmers,  scholars  and  children  and  courtiers  and  idlers  and  mere 
fools.  And  all  in  a  kind  of  pompous-tearful  allegory —  But  what  an 
illuminating  and  time-explaining  phantasmagoria,  there  against  the 
widening  end-face  of  an  endless  mine ! 

There  was  much  to  be  read  in  the  medley — as  often  there  is  in 
the  sheer  babblings  of  a  man  that  is  wholly  mad.  And  Samson- 
Solomon,  which  is  also  Simon,  of  Cyrene,  looked  and  did  read. 

And  of  a  sudden  he  beheld  at  a  little  way  behind  the  great  welter 
of  the  strange  procession — laughing  and  lagging  and  making  gestures 
of  mere  levity  and  levitous  contempt — Trivialis.  Simon  cried  (but 
only,  as  it  seemed,  in  his  breast)  “0  steward  of  my  father  and 
mongrel  of  ail  nations,  do  I  indeed  love  thee,  or  do  I  hate  thee  and 
despise  ?  ’  ’ 

And  at  once  he  saw,  at  a  little  way  behind  Trivialis  (forming  as 
it  were  a  peculiar  group  apart,  for  that  they  were  not  wholly  of  the 
multitude,  neither  of  Trivialis),  Lampadephorus  and  also  that  sunny- 
headed  Greek  which  had  formerly  worked  beside  Simon  in  the  mine, 
and  then — a  halting,  shamefaced,  priestly  Jew,  even  the  Kejected, 
Simon  of  Cyrene. 

And  Simon  and  the  sunny-headed  worker  of  the  mine  held  sweet 
converse  for  a  time,  then  quarrelled  and  afterwards  went  their  ways 
alone.  While  all  the  time  beside  them  went  the  spirit  of  Lampa¬ 
dephorus.  But  now,  at  length,  the  Jew  beheld  that  what  he  had  at  first 
taken  for  Lampadephorus  was  solely  a  ghost. 


248 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


And  once  again  Simon  looked  and  beheld  there  was  yet  another 
group  that  was  rearward  still.  And  he  cried  out  also,  yet  once  again 
(but,  behold,  as  on  that  other  time,  in  his  bosom  alone)  :  “Berith, 
Leah,  Machashebethel ! ’ ’  (Covenant,  Labor,  The  Purpose  of  God). 
And  he  also  cried,  “Simkah!  Gheel!” 

And  he  saw  that  Berith  held  out  her  hands  unto  the  Simon  which 
marched  before  her  in  the  procession,  and  cried  unto  him,  and  would 
have  come  up  anigh  unto  him,  but  that  she  could  not. 

Then  beheld  Simon  that,  by  her  side,  marched  yet  one  other  (and 
a  sweetly -solemn)  ghost,  and  one  that  did  from  time  to  time,  give 
tender  support  and  sweet  succor  unto  her.  The  ghost  was  that  of 
the  Man  whose  cross  he  had  borne  up  Calvary. 

On  another  occasion,  Simon  beheld  himself  more  vividly,  and,  over 
his  back,  a  great  bag,  labelled  i i Gold !”  It  was  for  the  reason  of  the 
bag  that  he  that  was  in  the  procession  saw  not  Berith,  which  is  Macha¬ 
shebethel.  At  other  times  he  beheld,  in  solemn  allegorical  procession, 
the  virtues  and  the  vices,  the  arts  and  sciences,  countries,  climates, 
seasons,  things  past  and  things  present  and  to  come,  things  for  the 
eyes  of  human  beings  and  things  for  the  eyes  of  gods — all  filing 
before  him  in  a  strangely  contradictory  and  unintelligible,  if  illumi¬ 
nate,  dumb  show.  A  burst  of  heavenly  music  would  sometimes  come 
into  the  scene. 

The  pageants,  from  day  to  day,  grew  vivider  and  still  more  vivid, 
the  music  sweeter  and  more  sweet.  Then  began  the  heart  of  Simon  to 
fill  with  fear. 

“0  God,”  cried  he,  in  his  soul,  “0  God,  0  God!  0  God, 
let  not  this  thing  come  upon  me,  but  let  me  die !  0  God,  0  God !  ’  ’ 
And  at  that  a  golden  burst  of  trumpets  sounded  and  a  blaze  of  noon¬ 
day  glory  shot  from  pillared  wall  to  pillared  wall. 

In  the  midst — Ophidion!  And  angels  came  and  waited  on  Ophi- 
dion ’s  will ! 

Then  took  Simon  of  Cyrene  his  chain  and  rent  it,  and  would  have 
run  at  the  bright  aerial  creations,  and  cast  himself  upon  them,  even 
in  the  rock.  But  behold !  there  was  a  crash  as  if  the  day  of  days  had 
thundered.  The  images  all  vanished.  The  floor  moved  and  twisted, 
and  Simon  of  Cyrene  saw  at  a  great  way  off,  in  a  long  apartment 
of  the  writhing  mine,  the  forms  of  many  calm  slaves,  a-working :  they 
wavered  a  little  and  were  gone.  He  clapped  his  hard  hands  over 
his  eyes  to  keep  the  outer  brightness  from  them,  and  then  said  softly 
(at  least  in  his  bosom,  for  he  could  not  outwardly  speak)  :  “Thou 
hast  cleft  the  mountains  and  the  hills,  and  hast  delivered  me.  0  my 
God,  my  God!” 


THE  SCHOOL 


249 


CHAPTER  XXXII 
Christopherus 

It  was  but  a  little  space  till  Simon  of  Cyrene  could  gaze  again. 
Then  found  he  him  a-standing  on  a  fragment  of  that  gallery  floor 
whereon  he  had  toiled  and  beheld  strange  visions.  He  attempted  to 
shout,  ‘  ‘  Nay-ree-yaw-hoo !  ’  ’  which  is  to  say,  “0  Light  of  Jehovah !” 
but  could  not.  The  end-face  of  the  wall  had  dropped,  as  it  never  had 
existed,  and,  in  its  stead,  a  dazzling  emptiness  of  silent  air.  For  his 
ears  were  stopped  with  the  thunders  which  had  come  at  the  riving  of 
the  mountain,  yea  with  the  dropping  of  his  walls  were  the  gates  of 
sound  stopped  up.  Came  shrill  cries  from  an  eagle  far  below :  Simon 
heard  as  one  in  a  sealed-up  cell.  He  looked  down  over  the  stone 
whereon  he  stood,  to  behold  the  eagle !  And  drew  back  quickly,  and 
clung  to  the  solid  rock  through  fear. 

Then  gazed  he  into  the  sky,  the  house  of  Jehovah.  Turning  clouds 
of  bossiness,  floating  on  crystalline  void!  Now  the  largest  of  the 
masses  was  shaped,  as  Simon  believed,  to  resemble  a  mighty,  if 
aweary,  man.  And  the  man  swam  on  a  mist  of  great  cloud-ocean, 
bordered  by  a  jagged  shore  of  cloud-land  rocks.  The  giant,  turning 
his  hoary  head  as  he  swam,  sought  for  a  haven  amid  the  shore  of 
stone.  For  a  time  he  did  well  truly,  even  became  jubilant  and  uplift. 
Then,  out  of  somewhere — but  who  could  say  just  whence — an  influence 
arose  which  moved  him  (mocking)  in  the  opposite  way;  the  cloud- 
man’s  head  sank  upon  the  waters,  it  passed  down  within  them,  it 
was  gone. 

Simon  adventured  to  turn  his  eyes  once  more  over  the  shelf.  Then 
saw  he  the  thing  which  had  been.  Far  down  in  the  valley  below,  he 
beheld  that  portion  of  the  mountain  in  which  the  mine  had  been 
hollowed  out.  Gone !  All  gone !  Greed  had  done  its  uttermost. 
The  galleries,  the  rooms,  the  shafts,  the  slaves,  the  supervisors,  the 
higher  officers  and  all — all  gone.  Only  a  bit  of  accidental  shelf 
remained,  fastened  to  the  standing  portion  of  the  mountain.  Even 
the  end-face  of  the  wall  was  gone  down  into  nothingness.  Solely  the 
shelf  on  which  he  stood,  the  straight  wall  running  high  above  it,  and, 
over  that,  another  and  farther  jutting  shelf. 

And  when  he  had  begun  to  comprehend  the  whole  of  the  great 
thing  which  had  happened,  he  attempted  to  lift  a  clear  voice  in 
words  of  sweet  praise  unto  God,  for  at  least  the  salvation  of  himself. 
But  behold!  there  were  no  words  that  came  into  his  mouth  nor 
syllables  upon  his  tongue.  For  the  long  years,  the  long,  long  voiceless 


250 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


years,  had  left  him  inarticulate.  Yet  he  said  within  himself,  “All 
that  hath  happened  unto  me  hath  happened  by  thy  will,  0  Lord:  I 
have  had  no  choice,  but  thou  alone  hast  chosen  for  me.  And  what, 
O  Lord,  am  I  ?” 

Now  it  began  to  come  into  his  mind  that  some  of  the  soldiers  of 
Ceesar  might,  by  a  chance,  have  been  upon  the  solider  portion  of  the 
mountain  when  the  landslide  came,  and  thus  have  escaped  injury. 
If  so,  they  might  soon  come  and  apprehend  him.  Moreover,  although 
the  mine  in  which  he  had  been  confined  was  the  worst  of  all,  yet  it 
was  not  by  any  means  the  one  and  only.  But  every  hill  within 
his  view  was  either  pierced  by  some  dark  mine  of  wretchedness,  or  else 
(as  he  clearly  foresaw)  it  would  be  so  pierced  upon  some  future  day. 
How  should  he  get  wholly  away  from  hence  ? 

He  looked  down  over  the  shelf  once  more.  The  eagle  was  yet 
a-weighing  of  its  wings,  though  it  had  come  a  little  higher  up  unto 
him.  Far,  far  below  the  eagle,  was  a  vast  reach  of  verdant  valley, 
through  which  a  peaceful  river  ran.  Ah,  that  placid  river!  With 
what  an  emotion  had  he  gazed  upon  it  (God  knew  how  many  years 
gone  by!)  before  he  had  entered  the  shaft  which  had  led  down  into 
these  mines !  Over  the  stream  was,  here  and  there,  an  arch  of  stone. 
Cffisar!  Was  he  indeed  out  of  prison?  Had  he  truly  escaped ?  Were 
there  not  prisons  without  walls?  incarcerations  without  confinement? 
Beyond  the  stream  were  forests  indeed,  showing  but  tiny  parellelo- 
grams  of  clearing.  But,  of  a  sudden,  his  eye  was  caught  by  a  swiftly 
moving  object,  not  transfluvial.  There  in  the  rolling  plain  which  led 
from  the  river  toward  the  new-fallen  mount,  it  seemed  to  catch  and 
cast  the  light  around  violently.  Then  he  began  to  perceive  that  the 
object  was  longer  than  at  first  he  had  thought,  and  that  it  wound 
snakelike  along  a  yellow  trench  of  road  which  was  deeply  cut  into  the 
verdure  of  the  near  champaign. 

A  body  of  soldiers  in  steel  and  brass! 

By  straining  his  pore-blind  and  light-unaccustomed  eyes  he  could 
just  discern  at  intervals,  both  the  soldiers’  helmets  and  the  heads  of 
horses.  The  slide — it  had  been  discovered ! 

He  suffered  himself  just  one  more  look  at  the  awful  flank  of  the 
mountain  which  had  been  removed  by  the  careless  and  greedy  hands 
of  men,  guided  by  the  absolutely  unerring,  if  unseeing,  finger  of  God. 
Then  he  said,  deep  down  in  the  chambers  of  his  heart :  1  ‘  Thou  hast 
left  a  little  also,  0  Lord,  for  these,  mine  own,  hands,  to  accomplish.” 
So  he  put  his  muscles  and  his  bones  to  the  work. 

The  solid  wall  behind  him,  as  it  arose,  reached  out  over  his  tiny 


THE  SCHOOL 


251 


niche,  stretching  like  a  cape  into  the  airy,  infinite  nothing.  Now  it 
was  round  that  shelf  of  rock  that  Simon  must  go,  fly-fashion,  if  he 
meant  to  escape  from  the  niche  and  so  from  Caesar. 

That  was  impossible,  was  it  not  ?  Could  a  man  crawl  upside  down, 
just  like  a  fly? 

And  what  of  his  case  even  then,  supposing  that  a  human  being 
(not  an  ethereal  ship)  could,  of  a  verity,  circumnavigate  the  awful 
sea  of  graspless  ether  around  and  about  that  mighty  cape  of  out¬ 
standing  rock  ? 

In  what  position  might  he  find  himself  then?  Perchance  once 
more  upon  a  place  from  which  led  no  path. 

So  the  man  cast  again  about  him,  devising  and  devising. 

The  sun  shone  straight  into  his  niche.  The  rock  was  returning 
the  heat,  and  his  head  grew  giddy. 

Then  a  consuming  thirst  seized  him. 

He  examined  the  surface  of  the  wall,  as  though  he  had  never 
beheld  the  side  of  his  gallery  before.  Glittering  particles  grasped 
and  held  his  eye.  Gold!  Life!  Safety!  Power!  Ophidion! 
Revenge ! 

Leaping  upon  the  cliff,  he  squeezed  his  stark  naked  flesh  tight 
into  the  sharp  recesses  of  the  rock  until  it  held  there.  Then  reached 
up  for  further  handholds.  And  so  on  and  on  until  he  had  got  to  the 
outshelving  portion  of  the  wall. 

Now  a  great  vertigo  came  upon  him.  He  perceived  himself  as 
though  he  were  some  other  person,  whose  feet  were  of  no,  yet  of  the 
utmost,  importance  to  him,  working  a  tortured  journey  out  above  the 
abyss;  hanging  rigid  there,  upside  down,  by  mere  torn  ends  of 
fingers  and  bleeding  sides  of  bruised  and  riven  calves.  Never  did  he 
cease  to  climb  a  little.  To  cling.  To  clutch.  To  press  in.  To  slip 
along.  Almost  to  fall,  and  yet  to  get  tight  hold  again.  And  so  on  out 
to  the  end  of  the  lower  surface  of  the  shelf. 

Then  it  seemed  to  Simon  of  Cyrene  as  if  the  moments  of  his  days 
were  surely  numbered. 

He  could  not  get  back  into  his  starting-place,  yet  neither  could  he 
go  on  round  the  thick  end  of  the  shelf. 

For  a  moment  he  closed  his  eyes,  and  when  he  had  again  opened 
them  he  beheld  once  more  the  glitter  of  the  gold  in  the  rock. 

“ Wealth!  Power!  Life!  Bone  of  thy  people,  Jehovah!” 

He  reached  up  like  Samson  of  old  around  the  shelf,  caught  a 
sharp  strong  point  on  the  upper  face  thereof,  half  turned  and 
grasped  also  with  the  other  bleeding  hand,  hugged  tight  with  knees 
below  still,  drew  up  yet  a  little  farther  on,  caught  well  the  hard  chin 


252 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


m 

into  the  rough  advantage  of  a  hollow,  let  go  both  legs,  and,  panting, 
exasperated,  exhausted,  half  weeping,  and  shouting,  at  least  within 
his  bosom,  delirious,  well-nigh  sacrilegious  words,  dragged  his 
twisted,  tortured  body  to  the  upper  portion  of  the  ledge  and  so  on 
to  safety. 

For  a  time  he  lay  unmoving,  and  when  he  had  come  into  his  right 
mind  again,  he  arose  and  looked  about,  and  beheld  there  were 
numerous  paths  that  led  away,  to  all  appearance  into  freedom,  safety, 
and  by  calm  and  gentle  slopes. 

At  about  this  time,  the  Jew  believed  he  heard  some  sweet  voice 
crying  out  anigh  unto  him — the  voice  indeed  of  Berith,  Leah, 
Amahnah.  It  said,  “ Simon,  Simon!  Come  unto  me!”  Then  would 
the  man  have  gone  and  searched  vigilantly  among  the  rocks  which 
lay  off  in  the  way  from  which  the  voice  had  sounded,  but  that,  at  the 
moment,  he  happened  to  espy,  at  no  great  distance  from  him,  the 
enormous  crucible  sheds  where,  as  he  knew,  the  precious  metal  had 
been  extracted  from  the  stone. 

Then  he  ran  with  all  his  might  down  into  the  sheds,  crying  (for 
at  last  he  had  found  his  tongue)  “Gold!  Gold!  Gold!  Gold! 
Gold!  Gold!  Gold!” 

So  these  two — Simon  and  Amahnah — were  verily  close  together, 
and  yet,  in  a  way,  also  a  mountain  apart,  for  Simon  went  not  to  search 
for  her  when  he  had  once  got  into  the  sheds.  Besides,  he  had  thought : 
“It  is  only  an  hallucination.  What  should  she  be  doing  here?  Is 
she  not  in  Palestine,  there  only?”  But  mostly  his  mind  was  filled 
with  the  thought  of  gold,  whereof  he  found  a  plenteous  abundance. 
And  they  that  had  been  in  the  sheds  had  gone  off  into  the  valley  in 
a  panic. 

He  gathered  the  nuggets  up,  the  ingots  also,  and  the  bars — in 
mighty  clankling,  glowing,  overheavy  handfuls,  in  wondrous  heaps 
and  all  he  could  carry.  Then  searching  about  a  little,  he  found  a 
traveller’s  pallium,  two  good  swords,  and  a  very  wide  scrip.  Also 
a  great  leathern  bulga. 

He  said,  “I  will  even  separate  my  wealth,  putting  a  portion  of  it 
in  the  bulga,  another  in  the  scrip,  yet  another  also  where  it  will  be 
more  hidden.  For  behold!  the  Mines  have  been  as  a  school  to  me 
in  far  more  branches  than  one — and  one  of  these  branches,  is  it  not 
Suspicion?”  He  therefore  filled  the  bulga  and  the  scrip.  Then, 
taking  a  beam  most  excellent,  and  bending  it  with  his  hands  about 
his  body,  made  thereof  a  girdle,  which  held  tight  to  him. 

And  he  found  both  food  and  drink.  And  when  he  had  well  eaten 


THE  SCHOOL 


253 


and  drunken,  he  arose.  And  behold — a  Roman  soldier  with  a  drawn 
sword,  which  was  running  up  to  attack  him. 

Simon  wasted  not  time  to  speak  to  him,  but  struck  with  the 
heavy  bulga  on  his  head,  that  the  brains  ran  out.  Therefore  the 
earliest  fruits  of  Simon’s  Roman  gold  were  solely  sin.  And  sin 
without  repentance,  for  Simon  thought:  “Behold,  it  is  well  I  have 
killed  this  man,  else  he  had  taken  this  gold  from  me.  But  it  I  have 
earned  thrice  over  in  these  mines,  yea  and  tenfold  also.  And  no  man 
shall  molest  me,  or  take  from  me  my  gold.  ’  ’ 

From  that  time  forward  Simon  of  Cyrene  loved  bright  gold  with 
a  more  passionate  devotion  even  than  when  he  was  in  the  Mines,  for 
that  he  had  fought  about  that  metal,  and  had  made  it,  in  a  manner 
of  speaking,  a  portion  of  his  blood.  And  from  having  protected  the 
gold,  he  began  to  feel  that  the  gold  had  protected  him.  So  that,  from 
that  time  onward,  he  loved  with  a  love  which  language  cannot  express 
the  look  and  the  feel  of  gold,  the  power  and  the  homage  that  are  tied 
up  closely  in  gold.  Nay  more.  Everything  that  dazzled,  or  blazed, 
glittered,  shone,  glowed,  sparkled,  coruscated,  or  even  merely  twinkled, 
he  loved  devotedly,  passionately,  blindly,  without  the  least  reserve  or 
concealment,  and  without  cessation  to  the  end  of  his  years. 

Yet,  for  the  present,  and  first  of  all,  it  was  needful  to  get  beyond 
the  possibility  of  recapture. 

He  slunk  off  into  the  wildest  mountain  paths. 

By  shut  of  eve  he  was  well  down  into  the  valley,  and  for  days 
travelled  by  narrow  winding  ways,  in  marshes  that  had  no  paths  in 
them,  or  in  shadowy,  beast-filled  forests.  But  into  the  roads  of  the 
Romans  he  would  nowise  venture,  for  a  very  long  time. 

Then,  on  a  rainy  morning,  he  went  up  to  a  village  inn,  called 
“The  Inn  of  Them  That  are  Happy,”  for  the  rain  was  turning  fast 
to  sleet. 

But  the  caupona,  looking  on  him  with  narrowed  eye,  said : 
“Lodging?  We  are  filled  up.” 

So  he  left  that  place,  and  went  on  to  another.  But  there  also 
the  beds  were  full. 

Then  another.  But  there,  likewise,  the  cubicula  were  filled. 

And  at  shut  of  eve  he  went  out  into  the  country,  and  taking  a 
Roman  road,  because  the  night  was  very  dark  and  the  sleet  falling 
thickly,  he  came,  in  the  course  of  many  hopeless  hours,  unto  a  hulk 
of  a  building  by  the  roadside,  that  had  a  lighted  torch  over  its  door 
and  a  legend  in  very  pleasant  letters— -“ Inn  to  the  Golden  Lamb.” 
Out  from  the  court  of  the  building  came  sounds  of  great  singing 
and  laughter. 


254 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


The  Jew,  therefore,  for  a  little,  hid  behind  a  tree,  taking  counsel 
with  himself  what  ought  to  be  his  course.  All  at  once,  from  a  side- 
door  of  the  building,  issued  two  men. 

When  these  had  come  to  the  opposite  part  of  the  tree-trunk,  one 
of  them  said:  “I  tell  thee  I  am  owner  of  this  inn,  and  will  have 
this  thing  my  way.” 

“And  I  tell  thee,”  the  other  man  responded,  “that  I  am  of  a 
good  family  and  will  murder  neither  man  nor  child  for  so  paltry  a 
sum  as  six  sestertia.” 

“Sh-h-h,”  said  the  inn-keeper.  “Not  so  loud.  Make  it  seven 
then,  make  it  seven.” 

“Seven  it  shall  not  be,  but  ten,  for  I  am  an  honest  person.  That 
have  I  told  thee  now  these  many  times.  Is  it  in  vain  ?  ’ ’ 

“But  twenty  sestertia  are  all  this  man  hath.  If  I  give  thee  ten, 
I  leave  but  ten  for  me,  and  I  am  owner  of  the  tavern.” 

“Ten.  Make  it  ten.  I  do  know — ” 

“Oh  then,  ten.  And  see  thou  do  a  thorough  job,  and  that  none  can 
catch  thee,  or,  after  any  fashion,  incriminate  the  master  of  the  inn. 
Here  be  thy  ten  sestertia,  and  the  gods  confound  thine  avarice.” 

When  the  men  were  back  into  the  house,  the  Jew  for  a  time  con¬ 
sidered  whether  the  shelter  of  such  an  inn  were  worth  the  hazardry. 

At  length  he  decided  it  was,  “for,”  thought  he,  “I  need  not  sleep 
in  the  place,  but  only  take  up  my  shelter  in  it,  till  the  storm  is  by. 
Then  will  I  off.” 

At  this  there  came  a  sudden  flood  both  of  light  and  laughter,  also 
sleet  and  rain. 

Therefore  he  went  up  to  the  door,  and,  opening  it,  looked  within. 
Then  he  entered — a  silent  building. 

For  behold,  the  laughter  and  the  shouting  had  died  away  at  sight 
of  the  Jew. 

Said  Simon  to  the  inn ’s  master  ( ’twas  one  of  them  that  had 
stood  in  the  storm  beneath  the  tree)  “Master,  I  would  have  enter¬ 
tainment,  at  least  shelter  till  the  storm  blows  out.” 

Then  came  caupo,  and  looked  the  Jew  over  insolently  from  the 
wetness  of  his  head  to  the  muddiness  of  his  feet,  back  into  his  flaming 
face.  And  he  reached  forth  his  hand  and  flung  away  the  hair  from 
Simon’s  forehead,  saying:  “We  shelter  here  no  such  three-letter 
wanderers.  ’  ’ 

Simon,  remembering  the  things  this  man  would  do  for  but  ten 
sestertia,  responded  unto  him:  “I  will  give  twenty  sestertia  for 
this  that  thou  wilt  shelter  me  for  one  single  hour.”  He  held  toward 


THE  SCHOOL 


255 


him  in  the  plain  light  of  a  brazier,  a  shining  nugget,  worth  far  more 
than  twenty  sestertia. 

The  master  looked  upon  the  nugget  with  great  concupiscence. 
But,  at  length,  uttering  not  one  single  word,  spat  upon  Simon. 
Pointing  to  the  door,  he  made  as  he  would  spurn  him  thence. 

Simon  went  not. 

Instead,  he  drew  from  his  bulga  a  glorious  golden  bar,  worth 
half  the  tavern.  That  also  he  held  in  the  sight  of  the  landlord, 
beseeching  with  sad  eyes. 

The  master  wildly  cursed  and  buffetted  him.  “Shall  I  lose  my 
custom  wholly  ?  ’  ’ 

The  Jew  trembled  and  ran. 

The  sleet  and  rain  fell  still  more  heavily.  Outside  the  circle  of 
flickering  light  cast  by  the  torch  posed  over  the  door,  the  night  was 
sheer  blackness  and  rainy  solitude. 

To  go  out  far  within  that  blackness,  Simon  believed  not  possible. 
He  therefore  slunk  and  slipped  his  way  a  very  little  into  it,  then, 
coming  round  and  about,  got  well  into  the  shelter  of  a  mouldy  hovel, 
and,  pulling  a  few  stiff  leaves  together,  began  to  make  pillow  and  bed. 

He  thanked  God,  after  all.  Here  he  could  sit,  or  lie,  and  listen 
to  the  mirth  which  ever  and  again  burst  forth  out  of  the  building. 
And  he  could  see  the  circle  of  ground  whereon  the  tavern-torch  was 
unsteadily  shining. 

At  the  rear  of  the  inn,  like  a  ghost,  gleamed  the  white  form  of 
an  altar  to  some  god,  while,  far  and  near,  in  the  dying  or  resurgent 
wind,  the  ice-clad  boughs  of  trees  clanked  and  clicked,  and  nearer 
and  more  near  that  clicking  and  clanking  appeared  to  come,  to  come, 
to  come — until,  at  length — 

Simon  of  Cyrene  sat  bolt  upright. 

Of  a  sudden,  with  mighty  clamor,  a  troop  of  Roman  horse  raced 
from  the  darkness  to  the  circle  of  light  before  the  tavern.  Half  the 
troop,  at  a  word,  went  round  behind  the  building,  while  the  rest 
remained  on  guard  before  the  front  thereof. 

Then  the  leader  of  the  band,  who  seemed  to  be  at  least  a  centurion, 
dismounted  and,  going  toward  the  door — which  now  had  opened 
from  within — cried  shrilly:  “Have  ye  inside  there  Simon  of  Cyrene, 
an  enormous  and  dangerous  Jew?  He  hath  escaped  the  Mines  of 
the  Wretched,  and  beareth  upon  his  brow  three  letters.  In  Cassar’s 
name ! ’ 1 

Hereat  he  strode  within  the  tavern,  and  the  door  closed  fast. 
Just  one  moment  later,  there  came  to  the  ears  of  the  Jew  the  deep, 
rich  bay  of  Molossian  hounds,  running. 


256 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


Here  they  came,  an  enormous,  bloodthirsty  pack  from  the  rear 
buildings  of  the  inn. 

Simon  evaded  them,  ran  and  doubled,  doubled  and  ran  again, 
got  headlong  into  streams,  headlong  out,  dashed  over  a  great  stretch 
of  level  country  road,  and  drew  at  length  toward  the  outskirts  of 
Numantia,  just  as  the  crow  of  cocks  began  to  announce  the  coming 
of  the  all-revealing  day. 

A  peasant  there  was,  going  to  the  city  with  a  load  of  cider. 
Simon,  at  the  peasant’s  word,  clambered  up  next  him — for  he  that 
had  run  was  sore  weary.  ‘‘Thou  art  a  big  man,”  said  the  peasant, 
“yet  these  oxen  can  of  a  surety  draw  both  thee  and  me.  Why,  thou 
art  great  enough  for  Hercules!  Hast  not  somewhere  a  club?  All 
soaked  up  too,  and  scratched  with  brambles.  Why !  big  as  thou  art, 
thou  art  shivering  and  looking  all  round,  even  as  the  little  Maltese 
dog  I  have  behind  me  here  in  a  basket.  Lost  is  he,  and  I  picked  him 
up  along  the  road. — But  hold !  thou  canst  not  fool  me.  As  the  wind 
did  blow,  I  glimpsed  beneath  thy  hair  three  letters.  I  am  not  a  man 
easily  deceived.  Get  therefore  out — out — out!  Slave!  Thou’rt  a 
stingy,  cut-throat  thief  of  a  Jew.  Convict!” 

So  the  J ew  remained  out  of  Numantia,  and,  crossing  a  river,  would 
have  entered  Calaguris,  but  that,  as  he  traversed  a  field  of  wet 
weeds,  he  dropped  down  into  the  vegetation  for  weakness  merely 
and  became  fast  asleep.  Awakening  in  the  night,  he  heard  soldiers 
talking  to  a  traveller  (a  person,  it  seemed,  of  distinction)  on  the 
Roman  road  hard  by. 

“Hast  seen  one  Simon  of  Cyrene?  An  enormous  Jew,  0  Master, 
with  ‘f-u-r’  upon  his  forehead.  A  dangerous  fellow,  else  had  I  never 
troubled  thee  concerning  him.” 

“I  have  not  seen  him,”  quoth  the  traveller,  speaking  the  Latin 
of  Rome,  “but  I  dwell  within  these  parts,  and  when  I  have  reached 
my  villa,  I  will  straightway  tell  my  servants,  that  all  may  scour  the 
country  round  about.  The  fellow  shall  not  escape  full  justice.” 

And  the  Jew  found  frozen  berries  to  eat,  and  a  foul  pool  to  drink 
from,  and  shot  off  northward  through  the  marshes,  streams,  and 
gloomy  woodlands,  and  having  at  last,  when  many  days  had  been 
fulfilled,  got  into  a  strange  and  little  settled  country  where  no 
Roman  roads  were,  he  came  out  into  a  byway  which  plainly  had  been 
builded  by  the  people  of  the  very  land  themselves.  And  there  he 
beheld  a  young  child  threatened  by  a  serpent.  He  slew  the  serpent, 
but  the  child,  who  had  not  been  fearful,  cast  a  little  stone,  which 
struck  Simon  over  the  heart. 

So  the  Jew  went  his  ways. 


THE  SCHOOL 


257 


And  passing  through  a  village  at  nightfall,  he  was  taken  by 
soldiers,  from  whom  he  brake.  Being  hotly  pursued,  he  struggled 
along  in  breathless  haste,  scrambled  up  straight  stone  walls,  leaped 
down  into  a  garden,  ran  out  through  an  open  gateway,  and  darted, 
darkling,  within  a  dread  and  seemingly  illimitable  thicket. 

After  a  time  he  emerged  on  the  border  of  a  lake.  Crouching, 
shivering,  listening! 

Hearing  the  soldiers  close,  he  dashed  forth  into  the  water. 

For  a  while  he  swam  on,  and  the  moon  arose.  He  was  bewildered, 
growing  each  hour  both  more  a-eold  and  weaker.  Could  they  not 
easily  behold  him,  the  soldiers,  here  on  the  water  in  the  clear  moon¬ 
shine?  Suppose  he  might  be  able  to  reach  the  farther  shore,  would 
his  enemies  be  even  there?  Why  should  he  not  permit  himself  to 
sink,  to  close  at  once  this  journey  of  which  there  could  not  be  a 
happy  ending? 

At  length  he  thought  he  must  surely  throw  aside  part  of  his  gold. 
But  at  this  his  feet  struck  ground,  and  he  stole  off  into  the  rushes  and 
the  reeds.  And  he  lay  in  them,  shivering  and  very  wretched,  till 
the  day  was  at  hand. 

Then  he  looked  forth,  and  saw  that,  at  a  distance,  there  was  rough 
ground,  and  that,  farther,  it  was  coming  on  to  snow.  Still  he  lay  hid. 

Yet,  when  he  had  become  greatly  an-hungered,  he  began  to  move 
about  a  little,  and  to  peer  once  more  between  the  rushes,  to  see  if, 
haply,  the  road  were  clear  of  soldiers. 

Seeing  no  enemy,  he  ventured  to  arise,  but  heard  some  sound  and 
drew  back  down  again.  Then,  perceiving  that  the  mischief-maker 
was  merely  a  hawk,  which,  through  the  tangled  underbrush,  was 
pursuing  a  little  quail,  he  re-arose. 

But  at  this  there  came  another  sound,  much  heavier.  The  Jew, 
believing  himself  lost,  drew  both  his  swords,  and  would  have  dashed 
out  upon  the  invader,  but  that  he  suddenly  perceived  before  him  that 
sunny-headed  Greek  whom,  long  ago,  he  had  beheld  at  work  in  the 
mines. 

Then  the  Greek,  smiling  and  holding  forth  his  naked  hands,  said 
unto  him:  “ Brother.’ ’ 

Now,  at  first,  the  Jew  answered  rudely.  But  later  the  tears  ran 
down  his  cheeks,  and  he  could  not  talk  for  mere  joy. 

So  he  went  up  to  the  Greek,  and  catching  his  hands,  clung  to  them 
as  a  child.  Yet  was  the  Greek  by  far  the  younger  man. 

“I  knew  thee  in  the  mines,”  said  Simon  of  Cyrene. 

“I  thee  also,”  returned  the  Greek.  “My  name  is  Christopherus. 
Though  a  Greek,  I  was  born  in  Jerusalem.” 


258 


SIMON  OF  GYRENE 


“I  in  Cyrene.  My  name  is  Simon.” 

Each  went  on  to  tell  the  other  about  his  manner  of  escaping  from 
the  mines,  and  all  his  melancholy  dole  of  things  which  had  fortuned 
both  before  and  after  that  event.  And  behold,  the  story  of  each  was, 
to  a  nail,  a  counterpart  of  the  other’s.  Each,  for  a  single  ensample, 
had,  on  a  time,  been  forced  apart  and  then  kept  separate  from  the 
dear  wife  of  his  bosom — Christopherus  from  Nea  Diatheka,  and 
Simon  from  Berith,  which  is  also  Amahnah  and  Machashebethel. 
And  each  did  hate  with  a  mighty  hate  Ophidion  and  Caesar — for 
Ophidion  it  was  that  had  also  caused  the  imprisonment  of  the  Greek, 
and  had  likewise  sent  to  some  seclusion  his  good  wife — Christopherus 
knew  not  where.  Also,  the  Greek,  just  now,  had  taken  the  Jew  for 
an  enemy,  even  as  Simon  of  Cyrene  had  misconsidered  him. 

Then  said  Christopherus,  ‘ 4  Let  us  cast  our  lots  together,  for  so  we 
may  be  a  comfort  each  to  each,  as  he  hunteth  for  his  wife,  likewise 
a  protection  whenas  that  Human  Serpent  or  the  Prince  of  the  World 
doth  seek  through  any  of  his  officers  to  waylay  us.” 

So  it  was  agreed,  and  Cruciferus  and  Christopherus  fared  along 
together,  intending  to  journey  more  and  more  into  the  North,  which 
is  to  say  farther  and  farther  from  Cassar’s  mines,  hoping  that,  after 
a  time,  the  world  might  change,  becoming  more  favorable  unto  them. 
Then  they  would  endeavor,  both,  to  find  again  their  wives. 

“And  indeed  much  recompense  is  due  from  the  great  world  unto 
us,”  said  Simon,  “for  that  an  accursed  and  soul-destroying  hole  I 
surely  did  find  those  mines.  This,  too,  however,  I  have  to  accredit — 
in  the  far  accompt — not  solely  unto  Caesar  and  Ophidion,  but,  in  a 
way,  unto  a  certain  crucified  criminal,  whose  cross  of  contamination 
I  once  did  bear,  a  Nazarene — ” 

“A  Nazarene !” 

“Thou  sayest.  A  Nazarene:  of  whom  the  less  we  discourse  the 
better.  For,  up  that  detestable  hill — ” 

“A  Nazarene — hill — the  cross — thou  sayest — ” 

“Speak  not  concerning  Him,”  objected  the  Jew,  and  considered 
without  delay  other  things,  as  the  w7olf-tracks  in  the  forest  where 
they  walked,  and  in  what  place  they  twain  had  better  stay  away  the 
night. 

And  it  came  out  in  their  counsel,  each  with  each,  that  the  Greek 
was  much  afeard  of  wolves,  whereas  the  Jew,  even  as  shepherd-boy 
in  Cyrenaica,  had  killed  a  many  of  them,  yea,  even  with  his  empty 
hands  had  he  slain  the  largest — and,  upon  a  time,  a  lion. 

Yet,  ever  as  they  moved  along,  the  Greek  saw  more  and  more  that 
the  Jew  was  aweary  and  that  his  feet  stumbled,  and  that  he  soon 


THE  SCHOOL 


259 


must  rest — for  that  his  late  adventures  had  been  too  great  for  him. 
Yet  Christopherus  understood  that  they  ought  to  go  much  farther, 
for  that  the  way  where  now  they  travelled  was  ill  beset  by  beasts 
and  of  many  kinds. 

All  at  once  the  Jew  fell  down  in  a  heap,  saying:  “I  can  go  no 
farther.  My  strength,  it  has  left  me.  I  am  also  nothing  but 
coldness.” 

So  they  made  them  there,  amid  the  snow,  their  places  wherein  to 
sleep.  And  Christopherus  said,  “I  am  very  warm,  0  Simon  of 
Cyrene.  I  would  thou  didst  take  my  heat.  See !  I  will  give  thee 
my  mantle.” 

But  Simon  suffered  him  not  to  give  his  mantle  up. 

But  when,  in  the  later  watches  of  the  night,  the  wind  blew,  then 
Christopherus,  who  had  not  slept,  cried  out  from  his  bed :  ‘  ‘  Dost 

thou  well,  Simon  of  Cyrene?” 

Simon  answered,  ‘  ‘  I  do  not  well.  I  suffer,  and  am  all  a-cold.  ’  ’ 

So  Christopherus,  without  one  word  more,  went  and  wrapped 
his  mantle  about  Simon  of  Cyrene  (in  addition  to  the  Jew’s  very 
own)  and  tucked  it  all  about  him  with  soft  hands  and  great  tender¬ 
ness. 

And  the  J ew  fell  asleep  within  the  garment  of  Christopherus,  and 
slept  as  in  the  very  heart  of  God. 

And  it  chanced  that,  in  the  farther  courses  of  the  night,  whenas 
the  hours  did  blow  their  coldest,  and  Christopherus  kept  lonely 
watch  above  Simon  of  Cyrene,  there  dodged  in  from  among  the  trees 
of  the  snowy  forest,  a  great,  gaunt,  shambling  wolf,  with  deep 
furrows  in  his  panting  sides.  And  the  wolf  did  deviate  from  tree 
to  tree,  snuffling  and  snuffling.  Then  saw  Christopherus  the  wolf, 
which  sprang  at  Simon  of  Cyrene. 

And,  though  the  heart  of  the  Greek  was  sore  afeard,  yet  the  man 
grappled  with  the  wolf,  that  he  might  protect  his  friend. 

And  he  slew  the  wolf,  and  hid  the  carcase  thereof. 

And  the  Jew  slept  on. 

Nor  ever  did  Simon  of  Cyrene  know  that  his  friend  had  kept  a 
great  danger  from  him,  but,  to  the  day  of  his  death,  was  ignorant 
of  this  matter.  But  the  Greek  said  unto  himself,  “I  must,  on  a 
time,  attempt  to  speak  to  my  friend  about  Christ.  How  shall  I  do 
this  ?  ’  ’ 

In  the  morning,  the  Jew  arose,  and  was  stronger  and  high  of 
spirit.  And  the  sunnydieaded  Greek  did  minister  unto  him  and  help 
him  much  upon  his  way. 

And  the  hearts  of  the  twain  were  knit,  each  unto  each.  Simon 


260 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


would  say  to  his  friend:  “Let  me  go  upon  the  left  side  of  thee,  for 
that  is  the  side  on  which  is  thy  heart.  ”  And  they  told  each  other 
pleasant  stories  of  long-time  friendships,  which  in  few  cases  had  been 
broken — of  David  and  Jonathan,  Abraham  and  Abimelech,  Alexander 
and  Jaddua  the  High  Priest  at  Jerusalem,  Achilles  and  Patroelus, 
Harmodius  and  Aristogeiton,  Solon  and  Peisistratus,  Socrates  and 
Alcibiades,  Epaminondas  and  Pelopidas.  Delicate  thoughts  unfolded 
themselves  within  the  minds  of  the  two  friends,  like  flowers  of 
sweetest  hue  and  pleasantest  perfume. 

And  each  learned  from  the  lips  of  the  other  many  true  things 
and  useful,  even  as,  upon  a  time  that  was  not  more  golden,  Simon  and 
that  other  beauteous  Greek,  the  shining  Lampadephorus  of  Athens, 
had  learned,  each  from  the  words  of  the  other’s  mouth. 

And  the  Jew  grew  stronger  of  body  and  of  limb,  as  well  as  in 
spirit.  But  whenever  the  Jew  would  fain  have  contested  with  his 
sunny -headed  companion  in  any  war-like  exercises  whatsoever  (saying 
“We  must  keep  our  practice  up”)  then  would  reply  unto  him 
Christopherus,  sweetly  smiling:  “I  have  no  sword,  and  will  not 
borrow  one  of  those  which  thou  didst  take  from  the  Romans,  0  long- 
armed  Dimachaerus :  for  see !  I  would  not  fight  thee,  even  in  play, 
nay  not  with  a  hollow  sword  and  pointless,  for  I  do  love  thee  truly, 
yea  better  than  a  brother  love  I  thee.  Also,  what  is  the  need  that 
any  man  should  learn  to  kill  ?  ’ 9 

And  it  seemed  to  the  Jew  sometimes  that  Christopherus  had  within 
him  some  hidden  spring  of  happiness,  for  all  that  the  Greek  did  say 
was  gently  and  sweetly  harmonious  like  different  lovely  airs  played  to 
be  in  some  relation,  one  to  the  other.  So,  whether  they  passed  along 
in  the  bright  Valley  of  Vision  or  over  the  dark  Roughlands  of 
Experience,  he  hearkened  gladly  to  the  ever-pleasing  syllables  of  his 
friend. 

When  many  days  had  been  fulfilled,  the  Greek  thought :  “I  must 
speak,  soon,  to  Simon,  about  the  happiness  coming  only  from  Christ.  ’ 9 

At  this  he  espied,  at  no  great  way  before  them,  in  a  corner  where 
two  roads  met  (as  was  the  custom)  a  Roman  tree,  whereon,  long 
days  before,  some  poor  criminal  had  been  hanged. 

He  believed  this  would  be  an  excellent  place  wherein  he  might 
speak.  And,  for  that  the  Jew  had  not  noticed  the  cross,  Christo¬ 
pherus,  even  before  they  had  reached  the  spot  where  the  cross  was, 
began  to  talk  about  the  numerous  prophesies  the  Jews  had  received 
concerning  Messias.  Natheless,  in  his  haste  to  reach  the  cross,  the 
Greek  outstrode  the  Jew,  all  the  more  that  Simon,  striking  his  foot 
on  a  stone,  stumbled  and  had  well-nigh  fallen. 


THE  SCHOOL 


261 


So  the  Greek  called  back:  “ Simon,  Brother,  thou  knowest  I  love 
thee.  ’  ’ 

The  Jew  stopped  stock  still.  Looking  up,  he  beheld  the  cross,  his 
friend,  very  happy,  with  outstretched  hands,  beneath  it.  Then  Cruci- 
ferus  cried,  seeing  Christopherus  would  have  spoken:  “What!  thou 
also!  Worshippest  thou  a  cross,  that  instrument  of  infamy,  of  death, 
of  hell  ?  Thou  too,  art  thou  idolater  ?  Get,  rather,  up  yonder,  where 
an  altar  is,  which  I  see,  erected  to  some  or  another  heathen  god, 
either  adulterous  Jupiter,  or  robbing  Mercury,  or  else  that  chief  of 
shameless  harlots,  the  naked  Venus.  But  worship  not  a  cross.” 

Said  Christopherus,  “Simon!  I  marvel  not  thou  dost  hate  the 
cross,  for  I  who  was  also  upon  the  hill,  did  see  thee  bearing  for  the 
sake  of  Jesus — ” 

“  I  ?  I  bearing  ?  The  hill  ?  I  bare  and  have  borne  nothing.  All 
who  say  I  did  bear  the  cross  of  Jesus,  there  or  in  any  place  at  all, 
they  are  both  liars  and  liars ’  sons.  It  is  a  myth,  a  myth  alone.  ’  ’  For 
so  did  Simon  of  Cyrene  (like  that  other  Simon,  many  years  before, 
upon  whom  also,  as  on  a  great  rock,  the  church  of  the  Savior  was 
founded)  deny  his  Lord,  and  would  know  nothing  concerning  Him. 

Said  the  sunny-headed  Greek,  i  1  Simon !  Friend !  ’  ’ 

But  Simon,  “Away  with  thee,  idolater!  Away,  I  say.  Get  hence, 
and  be  accursed  forever!” 

“Away?  From  thee?” 

“Away  from  me  indeed.  For  I  am  son  of  Abraham.  Damned 
forever  be  thy  kind.  I  do  hate  thee,  both  thee  and  that  servant  of 
the  devil,  Ophidion.  ” 

At  this,  the  friend  of  the  Jew  could  speak  no  longer.  Yet  still  he 
held  out  pitiful  hands,  and  would  have  come  anigh  Simon. 

But  the  Jew  cried  fiercely,  “Seest  thou  not  I  am  doubly  armed 
with  Koman  swords,  and  am  much  stronger  than  thou — also  better 
versed  in  combat,  having  been  instructed  of  eld  by  a  far  manlier 
Greek,  even  Lampadephorus  of  Athens?  Be  gone,  therefore,  and 
tempt  me  not.  Knowest  what  steel  is  ?  Art  on  thy  way  ?  ’ ’ 

Said  Christopherus,  turning :  “I  am  on  my  way  indeed.  And  I  do 
know  what  steel  is,  but  thee  I  understand  not.  0  friend !  0  brother !  ’  ’ 

But  at  this,  Simon  of  Cyrene  made  as  if  to  run  upon  the  slow 
Christopherus  with  his  twin  blades.  And  Christopherus  hastened, 
taking  the  westernmost  forking  of  the  road,  looking  not  back  at 
any  time,  but  only  down  at  his  two  shambling  feet,  and  moaning  of 
Simon. 

When  a  man  hath  done  some  passionate,  foolish  thing  and  all 
is  over,  he,  next  moment,  doth  cool  a  trifle,  and,  the  next  after, 


262 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


attempted!  to  reflect,  and  to  seek  for  a  cause  in  some  person 
other  than  himself,  or  some  semblance  of  justification.  So  was  it  with 
Simon  of  Cyrene.  As  he  watched  Christopherus,  he  said:  “It  was 
wholly  necessary  I  should  do  this  thing.  For  lo !  in  their  hearts  this 
man  and  that  other  Nazarene,  Ophidion,  are  alike.”  Yet,  as  he 
spake,  he  did  doubt  his  own  words. 

By  now,  the  Greek  was  far  in  the  distance — a  tiny  figure,  with, 
as  it  seemed,  a  bright  light  playing  all  about  it.  And  the  Jew 
watched  both  the  figure  and  the  light,  and  watched  them  and  watched 
them,  until  they  had  vanished  utterly. 

And  all  the  while  he  had  been  standing  very  straight  and  very 
still  upon  one  single  spot.  But  now,  of  a  sudden,  he  bowed  himself. 
And  casting  his  mantle  round  about  his  head,  he  wept  sore. 


CHAPTER  XXXIII 

At  the  Houses  of  Them  that  were  Specially  Sinful 

When,  at  length,  Simon  had  become  master  of  himself,  he  took  the 
eastern  branching  of  the  road — a  harder  and  more  precipitous  way 
than  that  which  Christopherus  had  chosen,  although,  too,  as  Simon 
could  see,  the  path  of  the  sunny-headed  Nazarene  was  beset  by 
numerous  difficulties.  Simon  said  in  his  heart,  “At  least  I  will  let 
my  association  with  thee,  Christopherus,  be  as  a  school  to  me;  for 
thou  hast  said  to  me  many  bright  and  beautiful  things.” 

And,  at  another  branching  of  the  road,  Simon  came  upon  one  in 
shining  apparel  but  with  filthy  rags  showing  beneath.  The  fellow 
said  that  his  name  was  Neomathes  (or  The  Newly  Learned).  After 
much  converse  with  the  person,  Simon  requireth:  “Point  me,  I 
prithee,  a  way  into  a  region  where  much  wealth  may  easily  (and  yet 
honestly)  be  come  by.”  Said  Neomathes,  “Go  yonder  road.  All  who 
take  it  prosper.  Moreover,  it  is  easier  by  far  than  the  other,  being 
broad  and  blossomy,  as  well  as  smooth  and  yielding  to  the  feet. 
Concerning  that  road  first  learned  I  from  the  lips  of  an  ancient 
friend,  a  certain  Lampadephorus.” 

“Lampadephorus !  Saidest  thou  Lampadephorus?” 

“Lampadephorus.  Knewest  thou  him?” 

“Knew  him?  Yea,  verily,  and  loved,  and  well-nigh  worshipped. 
But  too  much  had  he  learned  about  Caesar.” 

“Thou  sayest  truly,  and  in  consequence  perished  at  Jerusalem.” 
And  on  he  went,  with  many  a  shining  reminiscence  about  the  old 


THE  SCHOOL 


263 


Greek  Master,  while  the  Jew,  with  month  agape,  listened  as  in  a 
mighty  dream. 

Until,  at  length,  of  a  sudden,  Neomathes  happened  to  remark : 
“So,  as  thou  must  perceive,  these  thoughts  and  sentiments  are  like 
pure  gold.”  Whereupon  the  Jew,  throwing  up  his  hands,  declared: 
“Gold?  Gold?  I  had  forgotten  my  purpose.  Saidest  thou  yonder 
was  the  way?” 

“Stay  a  moment.  There  have  lately  been  discovered  rolls  writ 
by  the  very  hand  of  Lampadephorus  himself.  These  I  have  in  my 
bosom.” 

But  the  Jew  cried,  “Saidest  thou  yonder  was  the  way?”  He 
took  the  broad,  bright  road. 

But  behold!  the  breadth  of  the  way  and  the  blossoms  did  not 
long  last.  And  many  a  sharp  stone  came  to  lie  beneath  his  feet.  And 
the  road  led  off  into  a  country  of  which  he  had  often  heard,  yet 
knew  but  little — a  land  in  which  there  dwelt  a  strange  diversity  of 
distorted  creatures.  He  prayed  for  the  welfare  of  that  land.  And 
as  he  passed  along  the  road  he  gave  great  alms  and  was  high  compas¬ 
sionate  to  many,  even  unto  them  that  had  by  their  own  countrymen 
been  neglected.  For  such  was  the  use  and  custom  of  his  people 
everywhere,  in  whatsoever  land  or  nation  they  might  be  sojourning. 

At  shut  of  eve  he  came  to  a  village  where  all  the  abodes  were 
stately  and  fair  to  look  upon,  saving  only  one.  Now  that  hovel’s 
stones  were  yellow  and  green  with  age,  its  door-frame  creaked  in  the 
high  wind,  its  roof  was  thatched  with  fluttering  weeds  and  close- 
packed,  foul-smelling  leaves.  A  peacock  squawked  in  the  yard.  Said 
the  Jew,  “As  I  can  guess,  thou  art  a  house  of  but  one  single,  half- 
provided  apartment — a  thin-walled  room  and  that  with  a  rough  stone 
for  a  hearth  in  the  floor’s  center,  underneath  that  half -smoked 
perforation  in  the  middle  of  thy  roof.  But  it  is  meeter  that  I,  a 
convict  from  the  mines,  rest  in  you,  0  humble  abode,  than  in  yonder 
dwellings  of  the  great.  May  there,  in  this  little  hovel,  be  a  hospitality 
for  me.” 

At  this  he  heard  some  somber  sound  behind  him,  and,  turning, 
beheld  a  tall,  lean,  upright  man,  black-gowned,  black-caped,  and  long- 
mustachioed,  who  walked  stiffly  and  with  measured  stride,  and  carried 
a  very  large  head  with  an  insolent  manner. 

Simon  of  the  degenerate  soul  said  unto  him,  “Knowest  thou  who 
dwelleth  in  yon  cottage  ?  ’  ’ 

The  man  looked  at  him  with  far  gaze,  and,  after  a  time  of  dignified 
consideration,  replied:  “Yea,  ’tis  even  I,  Superbus,  who  dwell 
within  that  mansion :  I,  Superbus,  son  of  that  other  Superbus,  of 


264 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


whom  thou  hast  doubtless  heard.’ ’  His  voice,  as  he  spoke,  grew  round 
and  full,  satisfied  and  domineering. 

Said  Simon,  “I  had  thought  to  take  mine  inn  up  with  the  owner 
of  that  dwelling  for  this  night.” 

Superbus:  “If  thou  art  a  stranger  (as  well  it  seemeth  thee  to  be) 
thou  hast  chosen  better  than  thou  understandest.  Great  as  I  am,  I 
am  ever  willing  to  forget  my  true  largeness  and  to  show  some  trifling 
kindnesses  unto  those  less  fortunate  than  myself.”  His  breath  was 
hot  with  pride  on  the  cheek  of  Simon  of  Cyrene,  and  out  of  his  stiff 
hair  puffed  fragrances  of  nard  and  malobathrum  assyrium,  affected 
by  many  kings. 

Simon:  “I  am  much  beholden  unto  thee.  I  seek  but  a  shelter  for 
the  night,  and  perchance  a  little  wherewith  to  sup  and  also  to  break 
my  humble  fast.” 

Superbus:  “Thou  mayest  have  those  things,  humble  one.  But 
tell  me  who  thou  art — though,  truly,  thou  canst  not  be  much.” 

Said  the  Jew  (who  never  at  any  time  would  conceal  the  name  of 
him)  :  “I  am  a  weary  traveller.  Some  have  called  me  Solomon,  some 
Samson,  and  others  Simon,  of  Cyrene.  I  was  aforetime  shepherd, 
but  now  am  about  to  become  a  merchant.  ’  ’ 

Said  Superbus,  “It  is  well.  Yet  wait,  and  content  thee  not  to 
enter  in  before  me,  for  this  is  the  mansion  of  me,  myself.” 

So  saying,  he  stalked  into  the  wretched  abode,  and  the  Jew,  having 
stooped  in  after  him,  looked  round  upon  the  room — which  was  bare 
of  almost  every  sort  of  furniture,  saving  indeed  one  single  piece — to 
wit,  a  handsome  wife. 

And  the  wife  of  Superbus  (whose  name,  as  her  husband  stated, 
was  Superbia)  when  her  slow,  but  lofty,  eyes  had  descended  and 
beheld  that  her  husband’s  guest  was  a  good-for-nothing  Jew,  then 
gradually  (though  her  orbs  were  still  upon  him)  lifted  up  her  eagle’s 
nose  and  her  high-arched  brows,  and  marched  out  through  the  back¬ 
most  door  of  the  room,  and  so  was  no  longer  plainly  visible — though 
Simon  believed  that,  now  and  then,  he  perceived  her  listening  at  the 
door’s  hinges.  And  she  sighed  (so  he  thought)  from  time  to  frequent 
time,  for  that  the  wind  was  cold. 

Superbus  himself  was  fain,  therefore,  because  of  the  defection 
of  his  spouse,  to  set  the  evening  repast  himself — the  which  he  did 
with  muttered  curses  beneath  his  hot  breath,  and  mumblings  about 
the  inconveniences  produced  by  strangers  whose  entire  lineages  were 
set  but  little  store  by. 

And  when  the  meal  was  at  last  prepared,  they  twain  sat  down. 
And  Superbus  had  porridge  and  old  bread.  But  Simon  only  a 


THE  SCHOOL 


265 


mouldy  crust.  Said  Superbus,  in  good  cheer:  “Be  happy  that  thou 
hast  the  crust  (small  as  it  is)  from  the  fingers  of  Superbus.” 

Said  Simon,  for  he  greatly  marvelled:  “I  would  humbly  ask  of 
thee  a  question,  0  Great  One.” 

Superbus  said,  “Say  on:  I  may  answer  thee.” 

Said  Simon,  “I  perceive  thou  hast  an  excellent  opinion  of  thyself, 
the  which  (as  I  be  strange  and  ignorant)  I  am  at  some  loss  to  com¬ 
prehend.  Deignest  thou,  therefore,  to  explain  this  matter  unto  me? 
Why  holdest  thou  thy  head  so  high,  and  why  treatest  thou  me, 
humble  sojourner  though  I  seem  (I  say  not  ‘humble’  surely)  with 
words,  signs,  gestures  and  great  countenances  of  mere  contempt? 
Who  art  thou  indeed,  Proud  One?  I  do  adjure  thee  that  thou  tell 
me,  for  I  fail  to  understand  thee.  ’  ’ 

“Who — am — I?”  questioned  Superbus,  striking  himself  a  haughty 
whack  upon  the  bosom  at  each  of  the  words.  “Who — am — I?  Thou 
art  indeed  most  ignorant,  fellow,  as  thou  thyself  didst  observe,  if 
thou  knowest  not  the  sole  and  single  answer  to  thine  own  question. 
But  I  will  have  pity  upon  thee,  and  be  kind  to  thee,  and  look  with 
compassion  on  thy  lack  of  knowledge.  And  I  will  tell  thee  precisely 
(although  it  is  not  fitting  that  I  do  so)  as  to  who  I  am. 

“Listen,  therefore,  and  remember,  for  twice  I  shall  not  say  the 
words.  I  am  Superbus,  Superbus  the  Younger.  Son  indeed  am  I 
unto  that  far  greater  Superbus,  Superbus  the  Elder,  the  very  father, 
the  progenitor,  the  awful  ancestor,  of  myself.” 

“And  he — thy  father — who  was  he,  then?” 

“  He  ?  My  father  ?  Who  was  my  father  ?  Why  he,  my  father  and 
progenitor,  was  even  that  well  established  personage  that  once  beheld 
a  man  whose  maternal  uncle  once  upon  a  time  had  seen  a  soldier 
that  had  an  intimate  acquaintance  with  a  certain  person  who  had 
related  a  well-attested  anecdote  about  some  lady  who — long,  long, 
long,  very  long  ago — had  received  a  smile  from  Caesar.  ” 

Then,  at  this  whispered  impairment,  the  Jew  could  not,  of  a  truth, 
contain  himself,  for  he  felt  so  suddenly  tickled  that  he  laughed 
straightforth  helplessly  into  the  proud  features  of  his  host,  and 
altogether  cacchinnated,  and  slapped  his  lonely  loins,  and  shed  sweet 
tears,  and,  rolling  down  over,  lay  eagerly  helpless  on  the  floor — until, 
indeed,  he  saw  the  wide-eyed  Superbus  arise  and  stand  with  folded 
arms  above  him. 

At  this,  he  arose  very  quickly,  and  suddenly  went  into  a  great 
rage,  and,  being  weakened  in  his  character  by  all  the  travails  he  had 
had  in  the  terrible  mines,  and  his  tribulations  in  the  journeys  which 
had  followed,  he  suffered  his  words  to  flow  unshepherded,  crying: 


266 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


‘ 1  Thou  ?  Thou  a  great  one  ?  Thou  puffed  up  son  of  nothing !  Thou  ? 
What  art  thou,  then,  thou  by  the  side  of  myself?  For  I  am  truly 
a  son  of  Abraham.  Ere  thou  wast  born,  thou  swollen  fool  of  an 
idolater,  I  was  a  priest  unto  the  Most  High,  the  one  and  only  God,  He 
that  ever  was  and  is  and  always  shall  be,  whose  reign  hath  never  a 
beginning  and  shall  have  no  end.  I  am  His  priest;  thou,  nothing. J ’ 
And  so  he  stepped  outside  the  door  very  scornfully,  followed  by 
Superbus. 

And  Superbus  had  drawn  a  great  sword,  and  he  shouted  to  all  the 
neighboring  villagers,  as  it  were  with  a  voice  of  a  horn:  “See! 
Help  !  Come !  It  is  he,  even  Simon  of  Cyrene — man  of  three  letters — 
blasphemer  of  the  gods.  Kill — help — kill  him !  ’ 7 

And  the  villagers  came  running,  some  with  one  thing  some  with 
another,  so  that  Simon  of  the  proud,  but  hasty,  foot  was  fain  to 
gather  himself  together  and  to  run  with  violence. 

And  he  went  down  into  a  desert  place,  and  dwelt  there  many 
days.  And  all  that  was  in  his  heart  may  no  other  man  know. 

But,  after  a  time,  he  came  forth  into  the  mountains  wThich  stand 
between  the  Yascones  and  the  borders  of  Aquitania.  And  he  prayed 
for  the  welfare  of  the  land  into  which  he  was  now  about  to  make  his 
pilgrimage. 

Into  the  deep  folds  of  the  mountains  entered  he,  and,  where  he 
entered  and  all  along  the  way,  the  walls  of  the  road  were  black  and 
bare  and  very  forbidding,  so  that  his  face  was  set,  as  he  sometimes 
believed,  eternally  unto  unyielding  stone.  Yet  he  came,  at  length, 
by  dint  of  much  toiling,  to  a  little  valley  in  the  midst  of  high  moun¬ 
tains  and  overrich  with  a  soil  that  the  all  too  frequent  storms  had 
torn  down  off  their  bare,  unwilling  sides.  Yet,  for  all  the  richness 
of  the  valley,  the  people  of  its  only  village  appeared  to  be  utterly 
downcast  and  without  so  much  as  even  the  expectation  of  a  hope. 
So,  as  he  passed  along  the  street,  he  gave  great  alms  and  was  high 
compassionate  unto  many,  even  to  them  that  had,  by  their  own 
countrymen,  been  neglected.  For  such  was  the  use  and  custom  of 
his  people  everywhere,  in  whatsoever  land  or  nation  they  might  be. 

And  the  Jew  said  unto  himself,  “Seeing  I  came  by  evil  fortune 
at  that  former  town,  insomuch  as  I  chose  the  littlest  hovel  in  the 
place  to  stay  in,  I  will  seek  me  here  the  largest  of  all  the  habitations. 
And  there  will  I  take  up  mine  inn,  so  be  the  owner  will  suffer  me. 
And  may  there  be  a  hospitality  for  me  in  that  house. 9  7 

He  chose  his  house,  the  largest  in  all  the  village.  But  indeed  all 
the  other  houses  were  very  small  and  humble. 


THE  SCHOOL 


267 


And  went  np  anigh  unto  the  house  he  chose,  and  saw  that  the  yard 
about  it  was  as  bare  and  hard  as  iron.  And  before  the  door  was  a 
tall,  dead  oak,  wherein  a  gloomy  raven  croaked  continually. 

Then  the  Nugget-bearer’s  heart  sank.  He  said,  “I  have  made 
once  again  an  unfortunate  selection.  For  see!  I  am  certain  to 
despise  whatsoever  man  it  is  that  liveth  in  this  place.” 

Yet,  for  that  he  knew  not  surely  any  better  thing  to  do,  he  went 
to  the  door  and  knocked.  “Who’s  there?”  clicked  a  voice  like  the 
sharp  snap  of  a  trap. 

And  behold,  without  awaiting  answer,  there  came  to  the  door  a 
personage,  at  one  glimpse  of  whom  the  Golden  Wanderer  stepped 
backward  and  thrust  his  hands  before  his  eyes. 

Wheedled  the  man,  “Most  noble  lord,  come  straightway  in.” 
Now  the  fellow  was  the  mold  and  image  of  death,  save  only  that 
he  had  but  one  eye,  and  all  about  his  face  were  blind,  deep  pockets. 
And  his  garments  were  poor,  fringy  clouts  from  a  single  smock, 
pinned  together  with  long  thorns.  His  bony  hands  stretched  outward 
unto  the  Jew,  upon  each  a  supernumerary  finger  which  twitched  and 
grasped  continually.  Twitched  and  grasped,  and  grasped  and 
twitched,  as  it  were  fastened  to  a  restless  nerve  running  back  to  an 
old,  evil  heart.  “Be  assuredly  welcome,”  went  on  the  death’s  head. 
“If  thou  needest  assistance — ” 

“A  travelling  merchant  I,”  declared  the  Jew,  in  faltering  tones. 
“Shelter  is  my  one  requirement.  My  name,  it  is  Simon  of  Cyrene.” 

‘  ‘  Simon  of  Cyrene !  ’  ’  cried  the  death ’s  head,  with  gladness.  ‘  ‘  Have 
not  I  heard  of  thee  before,  and  also  of  thy  kinsman,  Alukah,  the 
horse-leech,  he  that  liveth  in  Koine?  He  and  I  have  oft  transacted 
profitable  business  together.  Thrice  welcome,  then,  also  ten  and 
twenty  times,  0  Simon  of  Cyrene.  My  name  is  Avaritius.”  And 
he  grasped  the  Jew  by  both  his  arms,  close  up  to  his  heart,  and  pulled 
upon  him,  so  that  the  Wanderer  was  astonished — for  he  had  never 
felt  so  violent  a  clutch  before. 

And  Avaritius  would  have  drawn  the  Jew  straightway  into  his 
house,  but  that  a  neighbor ’s  boy  ran  up  between  them,  crying : 
‘  ‘  Avaritius,  thou  hast  cheated !  ’  ’ 

“Cheated!  Waster  of  words!” 

“Aye,  indeed!  When  I  had  got  home  with  the  barley  which  thou, 
for  gold,  didst  measure  unto  me  in  a  measure,  behold!  my  mother 
saw  that  the  bottom  of  the  measure  was  dinted  deeply  in,  and  like¬ 
wise  one  of  the  sides.  Then,  too,  when  thou  didst  level  the  grain 
across  the  top,  thou  usedst  a  well-warped  board  with  its  rounded  side 
toward  the  barley,  so  that  the  barley  was  thereby  deeply  hollowed. 


268 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


And  now  my  parents  have  made  me  return  unto  thee,  and  say  that 
we  will  not  deal  with  thee  any  more,  but  to  ask  thee  back  our  money.  ’  ’ 
And  behold!  Avaritius  (though  his  step  was  soft,  and  slipping, 
and  sly)  beat  the  boy,  and  sent  him  away  screaming,  and  with  much 
of  his  barley  spilt.  The  man  did  gather  up  the  barley  carefully,  and 
bring  it  back  into  the  house. 

The  heart  of  Simon,  therefore,  failed  him.  Yet,  being  weary  and 
not  wholly  recovered  from  the  fright  he  had  had  at  the  house  of 
Superbus,  he  thought:  ‘‘I  will  stay  at  least  the  night  here,  so  be  the 
man  will  suffer  me.” 

Avaritius  clutched  the  Jew  again  by  the  arms  and  gathered  him 
toward  him.  As  the  twain  entered  the  door,  he  said  unto  him :  ‘  ‘  Tell 
me,  where  wast  thou  last  ?  ’  ’ 

“At  the  house  of  Superbus  and  his  wife  Superbia.” 

Avaritius  made  thereupon  a  crisp  rattle,  as  it  were  dead  bones 
clattering.  ‘  ‘  So  there  thou  wast !  The  wasters !  Come !  ’  ’ 

He  led  the  way,  all  round  and  round  in  the  mansion,  from  vacant 
room  to  vacant  room.  When,  at  last,  they  had  reached  a  tiny  closet, 
or  hole,  of  an  apartment  in  the  backmost  portion  of  the  house,  the 
host  declared:  “Here,  and  here  alone,  live  I.” 

“Livest  thou,  then,  not  in  all  the  apartments  of  this  thy  wonderful 
house  V7  asked  Simon.  “Methinks  thou  dost  narrow  up  and  need¬ 
lessly  contract  thine  existence,  to  keep  within  a  single  room.” 

“Here — live — I,”  declared  the  death’s  head.  “For  me  it  is 
enough.  This  big  house  was  dwelt  in  once  by  a  poet,  who  filled  the 
rooms  with  joyous  people,  and  with  strange  lights,  and  music  not  to 
be  understood.  But  I  ousted  him,  I  ousted  him.  Now  I  live  in  the 
mansion  with  right  economy  and  good  sense. — But  seat  thee  on  you 
stone  chair.  Easily!  Stone  as  it  is,  it  might  be  broken. — I  see  by 
thy  countenance  thou  smellest  my  breath.  Vinegar  killeth  an  appe¬ 
tite. — Superbus  and  Superbia — were  they  not  wasteful?  Were 
they  not  also  high  commanding  to  thee?  I  knew  those  people  long, 
and  when  they  were  nothing  but  slaves.  Their  master  was  a  proud 
Roman  who  did  eternally  humiliate  them,  especially  Superbus,  in 
every  designable  way;  as,  to  wit,  to  hold  him  up  to  scorn  as  a  fool 
at  banquets,  and  to  have  him  publicly  whipped  for  minor  things. 
And  whenever  the  master  spake  unto  him,  always  he  said,  ‘Slave,  do 
this,’  ‘Dog,  do  that,’  or  it  might  be  ‘filthy  fungus,’  ‘offal,’  or  the 
like,  until  one  day  a  man  from  Mantua — well,  it  was  no  other  lizard 
than  myself,  having  money  more  than  brains,  did  (chancing  to  learn 
of  the  chap  and  his  misery)  proceed  to  purchase  him  and  make 
him  a  full  present  of  his  freedom.  But  I — I — ” 


THE  SCHOOL 


269 


He  suddenly  seized  his  head  in  both  hands,  then  shouted:  “A 
fool,  I  was  a  fool !  I  gave  two  hundred  sesterces.  Fool !  Fool !  ’ ’ 

He  dropped  straight  down,  and  beat  his  old  hard  head  against  the 
stone  floor,  groaning  and  crying :  ‘  ‘  Fool — two  hundred — for  nothing 
— fool,  fool!”  for  a  very  long  time  before  he  would  listen  to  Simon’s 
comfortings.  Then,  “Pardon!  Thou  knowest  not  an  old  man’s 
woes,  Simon.  He,  this  scoundrel  Superbus,  hath  never  repaid  me 
but  about  two  thousand  sesterces.  That  is  interest.  So  still  he  oweth 
me  the  first  two  hundred,  and  my  money — which,  truly  I  tell  thee,  I 
did  lend  more  for  his  liberty  than  my  profit — it  is  gone,  irrecoverably 
gone.  ’Tis  lost !  lost !  lost !  lost !  ’  ’ 

‘  ‘  Thy  pardon,  ’  ’  interrupted  Simon.  1 1  Thou  tearest  thy  gown.  ’  ’ 

The  wretch,  looking  up,  attempted  to  master  his  passion,  and 
said,  with  pitiable  melancholy :  “  ’Tis  true.  I  must  save  my  smock.” 
And  he  clapped  his  hands,  and  a  woman  who  was  dirty,  as  well  as 
hard  and  muscular,  came  in.  Her  name,  according  to  him  that  called, 
was  Utilitas. 

She  gave  Avaritius  new  thorns  and  words  even  sharper,  saying: 
“Shall  we  have  this  wastrel  to  sup?” 

And  when  she  had  gone,  the  bony  host  said:  “She  is  but  my 
housekeeper,  Utilitas.  And  indeed  no  man  could  be  truly  married 
unto  her.  Not  very  good,  but  cheap,  cheap.  I  had  once  a  lovely 
wife,  Imaginatio,  and  eke  a  tiny  daughter.  Them  twain  how  dearly 
I  loved !  But  the  affection  was  expensive,  sore  expensive,  and — and — 
I  came  to  hating  them  both.  I  hated  them  so  that,  finally,  they — 
they — died. 

“Since  then  I  am  become  hospitable,  and  have  beside  me  Utilitas. 
Not  so  beautiful  she  as  is,  for  ensample,  Luxuria,  of  Burdigala — ” 

But,  at  this,  Utilitas  re-entered,  announcing  a  certain  Pictor. 

Pictor  approached,  and  fell  on  his  knees,  crying:  “I  have 
hypothecated  to  thee,  0  Avaritius,  all  the  things  I  had.  Mercy, 
mercy,  mercy!” 

But  Avaritius  spurned  him,  and  sent  him  away,  weeping. 

Then  came  in  another  whose  name  was  Musicus,  and  with  him 
Sculptor,  and  both  these  men  had  also  hypothecated,  as  it  seemed, 
many  things  to  Avaritius.  They,  also,  fell  upon  the  floor  and 
supplicated  him.  Yea,  even  as  if  their  tongues  were  wrapping  round 
the  soles  of  the  man’s  dirty  sandals,  so  supplicated  they. 

And,  at  this,  Pictor  returned,  bringing  with  him  a  painting  which 
he  had  by  his  own  hand  of  a  mother  and  her  child,  both  dead. 

Avaritius  started  up,  crying:  “  ’Tis  she!  ’Tis  they.  The  furies 
tear  my  heart.  How  knewest  thou  these  matters?” 


270 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


Pictor  said,  “I  know  all  men’s  hearts.  And  I  will  give  thee,  O 
Avaritius,  this,  the  picture  out  of  thy  soul,  for  the  debt  I  do  owe 
thee.  ’  ’ 

The  tears  streamed  down  the  old  man’s  face.  But  at  length, 
ceasing  to  weep,  he  murmured  sweetly :  ‘  ‘  It  is  only  worth  a  penny.  ’  ’ 

“Thy  flesh,  thy  blood!”  cried  Pictor,  hammering  the  board’s 
back. 

“A  penny, ’ ’  said  Avaritius. 

Interrupted  Simon  both  of  them.  “How  much  doth  this  man 
owe  ?  ’  ’ 

Avaritius:  “A  thousand  sesterces — a  thousand  two  hundred — a 
thousand  two  hundred  and  ninety — and  six  brazen  pennies.” 

Then  cried  Simon,  taking  up  his  massive  bulga,  in  which  the 
beams  and  bars  of  gold  not  lightly  clinked  but  clanked  heavily :  ‘  ‘  See ! 
Here  is  more  than  thou  dost  ask,  here  in  this  little  bar.  Now  let  go 
this  wonderfully  gifted  man,  and  be  thyself  at  peace,  0  Avaritius.” 

But  Avaritius,  when  he  saw  the  heavy  beams,  fell  straight  down 
at  the  feet  of  the  Jew,  like  a  suppliant  before  a  king:  “Who  am  I, 
oh,  who  am  I  that  I  should  stand  before  thee  ?  I  knew  thee  that  thou 
wast  some  secret  lord.  Concede!  Did  I  not  even  say  it  truly  unto 
thee,  that  thou  wast  surely  a  lord?  and  at  my  very  door?  I  knew 
thee  despite  the  sadness  of  thine  eyes.”  He  clasped  the  Jew’s  ankles, 
and  licked  the  toes  of  his  sandals,  and  was  at  some  peace  while  he 
licked. 

But  the  Jew  said,  laughing:  “Arise,  Avaritius.  Let  us  finish  the 
bargain.  Give  me  a  true  quittance  for  this  most  noble  man  and 
artist.  ’  ’ 

But  Avaritius,  as  he  rose,  said  in  a  voice  which  rapidly  grew 
cunning  again :  4  ‘  Nay,  not  so  fast,  most  noble  Master.  To  this  debt 
there  are  numerous  incidents;  as,  for  ensample, ”  and  so  on  and  on, 
and  never  could  make  an  end  of  all  the  incidents  to  the  debt.  So  at 
length,  said  Pictor:  “I  do  indeed  thank  thee,  worthy  Patron,  but 
strive  not  to  free  me  in  the  least.  Not  all  the  gold  in  Caesar’s  mines 
could  do  so  much.” 

At  this,  Avaritius  smiled  a  toothless  smile,  and  lent  the  man  a 
penny  on  the  picture. 

And  he  took  possession  of  the  wonderful  production,  saying  aside 
to  Simon:  “It  is  worth  ten  thousand  sesterces.”  And  he  placed  it 
carefully  in  an  archive  in  his  wall,  where  none  could  see. 

And  as  Pictor  and  Sculptor  and  Musicus  all  departed,  there  came 
yet  other  noble  people,  of  great  ability  and  fine  intents,  and  all  did  owe 


THE  SCHOOL 


271 


this  villain  money.  And  when  the  Jew  beheld  the  great  power  which 
the  shameful  creature  had  above  so  many  persons,  and  they  excellent, 
solely  by  virtue  of  the  gold  he  had  clutched  out  of  yet  others,  yea 
even  from  the  very  blood  which  nourished  his  own  thin  body  (for  the 
villain  was  half  starved)  then  once  again  there  awakened  within  the 
man  that  voice  which  he  had  heard  before,  but  louder  now  and  not 
to  be  in  any  wise  ignored:  “Get  thee  gold,  0  fool;  get  thee  gold! 
Get  thee  gold,  I  tell  thee,  get  thee  gold !  ’  ’ 

And  Simon  answered  aloud,  “Yes,  I  will  get  me  gold.” 

“Sh!  What  didst  thou  say?”  demanded  in  a  fright  Avaritius, 
starting  from  his  chair.  “It  groweth  dark,  and  I  am  sore  afeard  of 
thee,  for  thou  dost  look  at  me  with  evil  eyes.  What  was  that  thou 
saidest?  I  fear  thou  art  a  covetous  man;  and  covetousness  is  like 
unto  the  grave,  for  it  hath  never  enough.  List !  Heard  ye  not  some¬ 
body  digging  underneath  the  house?”  And  again:  “Listen!  Was 
there  not  some  one  clambering  over  the  roof? — But  hearken  unto 
me,  0  covetous  man  that  hath  deceived.  I  have  naught  that  thou 
wouldst  steal,  and  whether  thou  hast  confederates  or  not.  Besides — 
besides — thou  owest  me  money.  Man,  thou  owest  me  money.” 

1  i  I — money — thee — owe  ?  ’  ’ 

“Thou.  Thou  owest  me  a  thousand  sesterces,  yes  twenty  thousand. 
See,  thou  wast  here  aforetime,  many  years  ago.  That  can  I  prove 
upon  thee  easily.  I  lent  thee — but  come  thou  before  the  magistrate. 
He  oweth  me  money  also,  and  he  is  my  friend.  Come !  ’  ’ 

He  clutched  at  Simon’s  hair,  and  flung  it  upward.  “Thief! 
Escaped !  Thy  money  and  mine,  or  I  sue  thee  and  betray !  ’  ’ 

He  set  upon  Simon  of  Cyrene  like  a  curse,  gripping  him  by  the 
gullet  till  darkness  came  before  the  Cyrenian.  And  Simon  marvelled 
at  the  strength  of  the  old  bony  fingers,  and  could  not,  for  all  his 
strength,  have  loosened  them,  had  not  Utilitas,  the  cunning  house¬ 
keeper,  run  in  and  helped  to  undo  the  clutch,  crying:  “Stay  not. 
Nay,  do  not  stay.  Get  thee  forth  immediately,  for  long  I  cannot 
hold  him.  ’Twere  worse  for  himself  if  thou  didst  stay,  for  he  would 
kill  thee.  Moreover,  I  have  taken  a  liking  unto  thee.  Be  gone.” 

And  Simon,  as  he  ran  out  into  the  night,  cried:  “Lo,  I  will  be 
the  stronger  man  some  day,  and  will  have  gold  heaped  up  beyond  the 
madness  of  thy  dreams,  0  Avaritius.  And  I  will  have  me  a  mansion 
that  is  greater  than  thine.  But  this  one  thing  I  know,  that  I  will 
truly  live  in  it.” 

But  all  the  watch  came  up,  because  of  the  turmoil,  and  Simon  of 
the  covetous  heart  ran  on. 


272 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


And  he  went  down  into  a  desert  place,  and  dwelt  there  many 
days.  And  all  that  was  in  his  soul  may  no  other  man  know. 

But  after  a  time  he  fared  forth  into  the  low,  fat  lands  of  Aqui- 
tania.  And  he  prayed  for  the  welfare  of  that  country  into  which 
he  was  now  about  to  make  his  pilgrimage.  As  he  went  along,  he 
gave  great  alms,  and  was  high  compassionate  unto  many,  even  unto 
them  that  had,  by  their  own  countrymen,  been  neglected.  For  such 
was  the  use  and  custom  of  his  people  everywhere,  in  whatsoever  land 
or  nation  they  might  be. 

Late  in  the  afternoon,  when  the  winds  were  sweet  and  cajoling 
and  made  men’s  memories  drunk,  he  came  to  the  city  of  Burdigala. 

Here  he  said,  “I  have  had  so  much  of  evil  fortunes  at  men’s 
domiciles,  I  will  seek  me  out  a  public  caupona.  First  of  all,  to 
make  surer  of  a  civil  reception,  even  at  an  inn,  I  will  buy  me  new 
and  exceeding  fine  apparel.  Have  I  not  gold  enow?” 

He  bought  apparel.  And  having  arrayed  himself  royally  at  the 
seller’s  shop,  went  forth  with  confidence  to  an  inn. 

Here  he  was  noticed  of  a  tall  young  man,  handsome  and  also 
richly  apparelled.  Who  came  up  hard  by  the  Jew,  and  was  eloquent 
to  him  in  soft  and  supple  kindnesses. 

And  he  begged  him,  if  he  would,  and  were  wholly  free  to  leave 
this  tavern,  to  come  and  spend  a  mirthful  evening  in  his  house.  “My 
name,”  said  he,  “is  Luxurius  (not  unfittingly)  and  I  have  a  soft- 
voiced  sister,  Luxuria,  who  is  always  glad  in  her  heart  over  sprightly 
company,  especially  men.  Nay,  hold  not  back,  she  and  I  dwell  in 
our  own  domicile,  and  are  there  all  alone  (save  servants)  and  do 
whatsoever  thing  doth  pleasure  us.  Come,  come.  ’  ’ 

When  they  had  got  to  the  house,  and  had  found  Luxuria,  then 
stood  Simon  like  a  boy  in  her  presence  and  trembled. 

She  cast  her  eyelids  down,  that  she  might  cover  her  moods.  And 
Simon  was  silent  till  they  three  had  reached  table. 

When  they  had  all  well  supped,  she  asked :  4  ‘  Where  wast  thou 
lately?”  There  was  odor  of  wild  rose  about  her,  and  her  speech 
was  sweeter  than  the  wildest  bloom  that  ever  hath  blown. 

He:  “At  the  house  of  Avaritius.” 

“That  fearful  man!”  cried  she.  “And  thou  hast  come  living 
from  his  clutches  ?  Let  me  tell  thee  of  that  personage.  Once  was  he 
named  Creator.  And  many  were  the  people  that  thronged  the  myriad 
apartments  of  his  house,  his  and  his  wife’s,  Imaginatio.  And  bright 
lights  were  there,  and  wonderful  melodies.  And  sweet  dreams  were 
common  in  that  house.  Then  he  fell  into  debt,  and  had  much  trouble 
to  keep  his  dwelling.  So  he  became  mortally  afeard.  And  he  sent 


THE  SCHOOL 


273 


away  his  guests  and  servants.  And  his  wife,  and  the  only  child  he 
had  had  by  her  womb,  Beatitudo,  they  perished.  He  got  him  a 
hard,  hard-featured  servant,  Utilitas.  By  her  help,  he  gathered  and 
clutched  and  saved,  and  gathered  and  saved  and  clutched,  till  at 
length  he  had  saved  him  his  house.  But  lo,  the  hands  of  Avaritius 
still,  out  of  habit,  gather  and  clutch  and  save,  and  gather  and  save 
and  clutch,  and  they  know  of  no  finer  delights  of  any  kind.  Come, 
I  can  show  thee  from  our  own  front  doorstep  the  bare  plain  where 
his  wife  and  child  lie  buried.  ” 

But  when  they  had  reached  the  sill,  Luxurius  commended  them  to 
the  gods  (especially  Amor)  and  vanished  up  street,  so  that  he  of  the 
restless  foot  and  the  maiden,  left  together,  did  seat  them,  one  each 
side  the  door — as  was  the  custom  of  the  city  only  with  those  that  were 
married.  And  there  sate,  both  up  and  down  the  street,  many  neigh¬ 
bors  at  their  doorways,  talking  both  of  food  and  of  shelter  and  of  the 
great  unfathomable  mystery  which  lies  at  the  heart  of  being. 

And  the  maiden  spake  ever  to  Simon  in  softer  and  softer  under¬ 
tones,  intermingled  with  laughter  which  was  like  the  slipping  of 
hands.  So  wide-eyed,  half -forgotten  dreams  came  looking  back  into 
the  Jew — dreams  that  alarm  the  heart  and  distend  the  nostrils. 

‘‘Am  I  beautiful ?”  asked  Luxuria.  “If  truly,  then  why  sayest 
thou  not  so?  Or  art  thou  like  that  wretched  pair,  Invidus  and 
Invida,  who  dwell  in  the  distant  town,  Natura  Humana,  and  envy 
each  and  every  being  of  their  kind?” 

Simon  saith,  ‘  ‘  Envy  ?  I  worship  !  ’  ’  Came  out  an  afterglow  of 
the  sun,  crimson,  like  the  garment  the  woman  wore,  and  alighted  on 
the  house  and  vanished.  All  was  blackness. 

The  two  arose  without  further  words,  and  went  into  the  house. 

And  when  he  had  broken  wedlock  with  her,  she  got  up  and  cried : 
“Behold!  I  loathe  thee.  Depart,  for  I  hate  thee  and  so  I  shall 
forevermore.”  She  drew  a  great  knife  upon  him. 

He  would  have  staid  longer  with  her  at  all  events,  but  she  drave 
him  forth,  and  he  ran  by  the  nearest  way  down  into  a  desert  place. 

And  all  that  was  in  his  heart  may  no  other  man  know. 

But,  after  a  time,  he  went  forth  out  of  the  wilderness,  and  into 
a  fair  champaign.  And  he  prayed  for  the  welfare  of  that  land  into 
the  which  he  was  now  about  to  make  his  pilgrimage.  As  he  passed 
along  the  way,  he  gave  great  alms  and  was  high  compassionate  to 
many,  even  unto  them  that  had,  by  their  own  countrymen,  been 
neglected.  For  such  was  the  use  and  custom  of  his  people  every¬ 
where,  in  whatsoever  land  or  nation  they  might  be. 

So  he  came,  on  a  certain  evening,  unto  a  little  gathering  of  men ’s 

18 


274 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


homes,  at  the  base  of  a  bright  and  windy  cliff,  on  the  farther  side 
whereof  a  great  abyss  was.  He  asked  of  a  villager  what  was  the 
name  of  this  place,  and  the  man  answered  and  said:  “Natura 
Humana.  ’  ’ 

Now  the  Jew  thought,  “I  will  even  buy  me  a  little  something 
at  the  place  where  I  would  stay  the  night,  thus  to  render  them 
which  sell  unto  me  the  more  hospitable. ” 

He  said  to  some  one,  “Show  me,  I  prithee,  a  shop  where  figs  and 
dates  and  good  fresh  oil  can  be  had  at  a  low  price,  and  where  the 
people  are  hospitable  to  strangers. ” 

The  villager  pointed  out  a  shop  (which  was  over  in  the  farthest 
border  of  the  village  at  a  little  distance  from  all  the  other  houses) 
saying :  ‘  ‘  Invidus  and  Invida  do  business  there.  Their  merchandises 
are  good  indeed,  and  they  dwell  in  the  buildings  just  behind  the  shop. 
They  are  high  hospitable,  for,  not  long  ago,  the  gods  took  their  son, 
which  was  their  one  strength.  ” 

It  was  night,  and  pitch  black  all  along  the  ground,  when  the  Jew 
got  down  to  the  place,  and  the  buildings  stood  forth  strongly  against 
the  purple  sky.  There  was  no  torch  over  the  shop  portal,  and  the 
Jew  tried  at  divers  entrances,  stumbling  ever  and  again  before  he  at 
length  found  the  right  place — a  temporary  door. 

And  when  he  had  entered  the  shop,  behold !  the  man  and  the 
woman  which  kept  the  shop  and  which  were  coming  into  the  room 
from  behind  with  a  great  skin  of  new  oil,  when  they  saw  Simon  of 
Cyrene,  dropped  their  skin,  so  that  the  oil  was  spilled. 

And  they  twain  ran  to  the  Jew,  and  caught  him  by  his  hands  and 
kissed  him,  crying  to  each  other:  “So  like!  So  like!” 

Then  said  they  to  the  Weary  One,  “Behold,  thou  art  very  resem- 
blant  to  our  only  son,  whom  lately  the  gods  called,  so  that  now  we 
be  alone.  Stay,  therefore,  and  be  numbered  of  us.  Be  as  our  own.” 

They  wept  much,  and  fondled  him  exceedingly. 

Gazed  the  Jew  full  upon  the  couple  without  perturbation,  seeing 
how  sharp  their  noses,  thin  their  lips,  little  and  squinting  their  ever- 
shifting  eyes,  how  all  their  features  were  a  pallid  blue,  even  in  the 
soft  ardor  of  the  evening.  Yet,  too,  their  backs  were  bowed,  and 
their  hands,  which  smelt  of  thyme  and  lavender,  shook  continually. 
And  they  were  in  the  very  course  of  remodeling  their  building. 

So  the  Weary  One  said  unto  them,  “I  am  only  an  immaterial 
merchant,  Simon  of  Cyrene.  But  if  truly  ye  will  have  me  for  your 
son,  and  do  not  jest,  but  believe  I  can  help  you,  then  here  will  I 
remain  and  be  as  ye  say.”  Yet  he  accepted  with  inner  laughter, 
remembering  the  deep  wounds  he  had  received  at  so  many  doors. 


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275 


But  him  they  had  for  their  son.  And  he  labored  enduringly  for 
them,  prospering  them  in  their  commerce. 

And  about  the  couple  was  ever  a  trace  of  better  days,  as  about 
fallen  angels.  There  was  always  something  purple  darkling  in  their 
cheeks — shadows  that  passed  even  in  the  middle  of  laughter,  like 
clouds  o’er  prosperous  grain. 

And  they  had  a  live  raven  outside,  for  a  sign  of  their  business. 
It  croaked  night  and  day. 

On  a  time,  the  wife  (she  that  would  be  a  mother  unto  Simon) 
said  to  the  Jew:  “ Where  wast  thou  last — that  is  before  thou  earnest 
to  us  ?  At  the  home  of  Luxuria  ?  Blush  not,  0  my  son.  All  ye  men 
are  so,  and  many  that  have  reached  their  prime  as  well. — Knowest 
thou  her  life-story,  eke  the  story  of  her  brother?  They  twain  were 
children  of  a  Stoic  philosopher,  much  esteemed  and  very  pure.  And 
ever  the  man  grew  stricter  over  them.  The  innocentest  pleasures 
were  wholly  forbidden.  Never  any  visitors  were  seen  in  his  home, 
nor  could  the  children  leave  their  father’s  garden — where  they  sate 
and  moped  or  stood  and  moped,  rather  than  played.  The  issue? 
Thou  hast  seen  no  doubt  such  things.  Those  children  are  as  bad  in 
certain  respects  as  old,  fat  Gula,  the  glutton,  for  his  food.  She 
outvieth  her  brother,  he  her.  Each,  indeed,  is  the  other’s  pimp,  and, 
though  the  twain  have  oft  repented,  oft  speak  (it  seemeth  strange) 
of  reformation,  yet  they  reform  not,  but  wax  more  profligate.  We 
hold  this  not  as  against  thee,  0  our  dear  son,  neither  I  nor  thy  father, 
so  be  thou  always  wilt  stay  with  us.” 

The  raven  croaked,  and  Simon  said  that  he  would  stay. 

Again,  when  the  Jew  was  cleansing  oil  for  his  parents,  Invida 
was  abusing  certain  neighbors  who,  she  said,  were  far  too  prosperous 
to  suit  the  gods.  “ Think  ye,”  she  asked,  “that  the  gods  will  stomach 
it  if  people  be  too  happy?  Will  they  not  indeed,  those  gods,  remove 
those  peoples’  son  from  them  or  perchance  cause  them  to  fail  in  their 
business  ?  ’  ’ 

Said  her  husband,  Invidus:  “The  gods  will  surely  take  the  son 
away  from  them — those  people — and  also  make  them  fail  in  business. 
I,  for  one,  will  laugh  and  wholly  rejoice  when  thus  the  gods  have 
entreated  them.” 

At  this,  there  entered  the  door  a  blunt  officer  of  the  prefect,  and 
said  to  both  Invidus  and  Invida:  “The  money!  Thy  creditors  will 
have  the  money.” 

Thereupon  Invidus  and  Invida  brake  into  loud  lamentations,  and 
fell  down  on  the  floor.  They  clutched  the  officer’s  knees,  supplicating 
him  that  he  would,  at  the  least,  be  not  wholly  unmerciful. 


276 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


But  the  officer  shaketh  them  off  rudely,  saying :  ‘ 1  This  night  will 
I  come  again,  and  bring  another  owner  of  this  business  and  of  all 
these  buildings,  and  ye  shall  forthwith  out  of  doors.  Be  ye  warned 
therefore  and  ready.  ” 

And  when  the  officer  was  gone,  Simon  cried  aloud:  “0  parents 
that  have  loved  me  so  well,  do  ye  think  ye  have  treated  me  right, 
inasmuch  as  ye  have  kept  your  true  conditions  to  yourselves?  Did 
ye  believe  that  I,  a  son,  could  not  help  you?  Be  calm.  I  will  soon 
return.  ’ ’ 

He  came  back  shortly,  high  of  heart  and  quivering  because  of 
the  pleasure  he  felt. 

He  lifted  up  his  enormous  bulga,  then,  and  inverted  it  and  banged 
the  great  bars  and  beams  of  gold  on  the  floor. 

The  foster  parents  stood  up,  at  first  marvelling. 

Then  their  eyes  sought  not  the  Jew’s,  but  each  other’s,  and  their 
faces  grew  more  livid  than  before. 

Which  seeing,  Simon  saith:  “All  this  gold,  at  least  so  much  as 
ye  need  in  your  predicament,  it  is  yours,  and  without  thought  of  any 
return  unto  me.  Have  ye  not  said,  ‘Son’?  Reach  down,  therefore, 
and  pick  this  metal  up.  Feel  for  yourselves  that  the  beams  are 
those  of  heaviness  and  all  worth.” 

But  yet  neither  Invidus  nor  Invida  would  touch  the  bars  or  the 
beams,  and  the  heart  of  the  Jew  began  to  throb  with  fearful  boding. 
Said  he  once  more,  “0  Invida  and  Invidus,  parents  of  mine,  I  do 
truly  love  you  both,  for  that  ye  have  loved  me  also,  and  have  sheltered 
me,  a  wanderer,  and  have  done  me  many  kindnesses.  And  now  I 
lend  not  this  fortune  unto  you,  but  give  it  freely,  seeking  not  any 
recompense  whatsoever,  but  only  the  joy  I  have  in  this,  to  do  you, 
dear  parents,  such  pleasure  and  delight.” 

Then  turned  unto  him  Invidus  and  Invida  their  purple  counte¬ 
nances,  and  the  man  beheld  that  his  parents  were  naught  but  envious 
because  of  his  wealth,  incapable  therefore  of  rejoicing  in  any  degree. 

And  his  knees  grew  weak  as  water.  He  wished  he  were  dead. 

Invida  at  length  said  unto  him,  “Dog!  And  with  gold!  What 
hast  thou,  dog,  done  in  this  world  that  thou  shouldst  have  gold?” 

He  said  unto  them,  ‘  ‘  Father !  Mother !  ’  ’ 

But  the  man  shrieked,  suffering  implacably :  ‘  ‘  Hell !  Furies ! 

Jew!  Thief!  Judasus  Triliteratus.” 

Invida  hissed  like  a  goose,  “S-s-s-t!  What  dost  thou,  ass,  with 
this?  Seemest  thou  hast  not  solely  labored  for  such  brightness. 
S-s-s-t!  Beest  Caasar’s  slave,  ass,  thou  serpent?  Thinkest  it  hath 
escaped  us  twain  thou  art  a  man  of  three  letters?  Thou  hast  come 


THE  SCHOOL 


277 


to  us  and  pretended  unto  us  to  be  like  our  own  son.  But  what  indeed 
art  thou?  Hast  not  suffered  in  the  Mines?  Shame!  Answer  us 
that.  Hast  thou  not  indeed  been  with  chisel  and  pick?  And  art 
thou  not  a  scoffer  at  the  gods  ?  Hast  thou  not  said  there  was  no  other 
god  but  thine?  Let  us  see  again  thy  hated  hands.  Are  they  not 
marked  forever  with  mallet  and  with  chisel?  Wilt  thou  not  show 
them  ?  Sad-eye !  Thief !  ’  ’  Running  to  the  door,  she  cried  to  the 
village:  ‘‘Thief!  Help,  help!  Thief!  Run  hither,  watch !” 

But  Simon  himself,  having  gathered  up  his  golden  beams  and 
bars,  was  running  on  his  own  account,  and  in  very  good  season — but 
envious,  envious  of  all  that  had  ever  a  fixed  abode  in  the  town  of 
Natura  Humana,  and  with  never  a  brand  upon  their  fortunate  brows. 
“Alas,  that  I  am  a  poor-rich  child  of  Abraham!”  cried  he. 

And  he  went  down  into  a  desert  place.  And  all  that  was  in  his 
heart  may  no  other  man  know. 

But,  after  a  time,  he  went  forth  out  of  the  wilderness,  and  up 
into  a  wide,  black,  abdominous  country,  where  even  the  houses  were 
great  and  the  barns  and  granaries  were  distended  beyond  belief.  And 
he  prayed  for  the  welfare  of  that  land  into  the  which  he  was  about  to 
make  his  pilgrimage.  And  as  he  passed  along  the  way  he  gave  great 
alms  (for  the  poor  were  here  also)  and  was  high  compassionate  unto 
many,  even  unto  them  that  had,  by  their  own  rich  countrymen,  been 
neglected.  For  such  was  the  use  and  custom  of  his  people  every¬ 
where,  in  whatsoever  land  or  nation  they  might  be. 

And  the  man  himself  was  hungry  both  for  food  and  for  friendship, 
yea  though  he  had  much  gold.  But  all  did  pass  him  by,  either  with 
shrugs  or  lifted  eyebrows  or  pretences  not  to  have  seen  him,  until  of 
a  hot,  high  noon,  as  he  shambled  weakly  along  the  Roman  road  (seeing 
strange  visions  rising  up  and  fading  out  before  him)  behold,  a  large, 
emaciated  man  who  was,  as  it  seemed,  a  very  important  steward  of  a 
nearby  farm. 

And  the  steward,  when  he  saw  the  Jew,  came  rushing  up,  and 
laid  hands  upon  him,  crying  in  a  little,  goat-like  voice :  ‘  ‘  Ho !  Thou 
seemest  a  man  that  could  chew  and  yet  not  swallow !  ’  ’ 

Saith  Simon,  “I  neither  swallow  nor  chew.” 

Then  said  the  man,  “What  art  thou?” 

And  Simon,  who  was  so  lean  and  hungry  that  he  shamed  to 
answer  him,  “A  merchant,”  saith  unto  him,  “A  philosopher.” 

“Thou  art  then,  of  a  surety,  poor.” 

“Aye!  I  starve  to  escape  the  perplexities  and  restraints  of  this 
world.  ’  ’ 

But  cool  suspicion  passed  over  the  great  one’s  face.  “Belike  art 


278 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


thou  an  escaped  slave — a  publicus.  There  be  a  many  hereabouts. 
Such  men,  whenever  they  chew,  they  swallow.” 

Now,  poor  Simon,  who  was  growing  more  and  more  delirious, 
what  with  the  want  of  food,  the  long,  laborious  hours  of  walking,  the 
refusals  at  many  doors,  and  the  unappeased  anxiety  about  re-capture, 
talked  off  (and  could  not  help  it)  a  string  of  strangely  foolish  matters, 
as,  to  wit,  the  prisons  of  this  world,  and  great  thickets  and  waste 
places,  and  crosses  and  the  carrying  of  them,  and  the  prices  of  food, 
and  doors  that  would  never  open,  and  the  names  of  excellent  things 
to  eat,  and  whence  from  other  languages  their  names  were  taken,  and 
why  it  might  have  been  different  and  why  not.  He  laughed  withal 
wildly  twice  and  again. 

And  the  silly,  disjointed  talk  did  so  impress  the  important  over¬ 
seer  that  he  saith  straightway,  with  high  reverence:  “I  see  thou 
art  indeed  a  philosopher,  even  as  thou  saidest,  eke  a  very  learned 
one  also.  But  behold!  for  all  this,  thou  mayest  indeed  have  escaped 
the  mines,  or  at  least  the  road-works.  But  see!  we  let  that  pass  in 
any  case.  If  it  suit  thee  to  accept  a  trifling  work  for  trifling  com¬ 
pensation,  I — being  short-handed —  Hast  thou  ever  chewed  for 
pigeons?  Wilt  thou  indeed  chew  for  them,  philosopher?” 

Simon  saith,  ‘‘Aye,  either  for  them  or  for  myself.  And  better 
for  the  latter  than  the  former.  But  why  hast  thou  here”  (as  the 
man  did  lead  him  to  the  pigeon-yard,  within  an  enclosure)  “so  many 
hundreds  of  these  birds  and  eke  of  great  fat  capons?” 

The  man  shrilled,  “Interrogate  not  me,  but  chew  and  stuff  even 
as  here  thou  seest  all  these  score  of  workmen  both  chewing  the  white, 
fine  bread  and  stuffing  the  pigeons  therewith.  And  chew  thou  so,  and 
so  stuff.  A  denarius  a  day  to  thee — but  eat  not  the  pigeons  ’  food.  It 
will  go  full  sore  with  thee  else.” 

But  Simon  had  already  torn  a  great  loaf  away  from  the  men, 
and  was  both  chewing  for,  and  also  stuffing,  his  own  poor  stomach. 

‘  ‘  What !  Hold !  Thief  !  K'nowest  thou  not  that  only  one,  in 
addition  to  the  pigeons,  hath  any  right  to  swallow  ?  ’  ’ 

But  Simon  of  the  Suffering  Stomach  only  ran  about  in  quick 
circles,  and  continued  to  munch  his  loaf. 

Till  at  length  he  was  fetched  a  hearty  crack  over  the  pate. 

Then,  with  a  shrill  cry,  the  Jew  threw  up  his  hands,  lost  his 
loaf,  and  seeing  that  the  staff  was  about  to  descend  again,  set  off 
round  a  mighty  granary  at  high  speed  with  the  thin  steward  and  an 
even  more  starven  multitude  close  behind  him. 

Now  Simon  had  already  learned  that  it  is  better  to  be  well  hidden 


THE  SCHOOL 


279 


than  to  run  fast.  So,  though  he  was  getting  stronger  by  a  little, 
because  of  the  bread,  he  ran  into  the  granary. 

The  opposite  door  was  open,  and  he  might  have  run  clean  through 
without  hindrance.  But  first  he  glanced  about.  Great,  high  cones 
and  pyramids  of  grain!  Empty  bins  also.  That  was  all.  No,  not 
all — the  skin. 

He  darted  behind  the  cured  aurochs  hide,  which  hung  from  a 
lofty,  projecting  beam,  and  which  was  full  three  feet  from  touching 
the  floor.  Leaping  to  the  beam,  he  caught  it  in  his  hands,  and  drew 
up  his  feet  behind  the  hide  precisely  as  the  overseer,  with  his 
crowd  of  followers,  roared  into  the  building. 

Like  a  harrying  blast  they  swept  on  through. 

But  scarcely  had  the  echoes  of  their  steps  died  from  the  far 
recesses  of  the  great  barn,  when  Simon  heard  the  hunters  coming 
back. 

In  they  rushed,  half  the  party  crying:  “Yea,  he  is  in  some  bin.’, 

Now,  though  Simon  had  grown  a  little  stronger  on  the  bread,  yet 
still  he  was  so  weak  that  he  felt  he  could  not  hang  up  there,  suspended 
by  quivering  hands,  much  longer. 

Still,  of  a  surety,  he  so  did  hang  for  a  considerable  time. 

Good  sooth,  he  hung  till  the  bins  and  heaps  of  grain  had  each 
and  all  been  thumped  and  prodded  with  staves,  stones  and  dung- 
forks.  Then  had  he  the  joy  to  hear  the  little  voice  of  the  big  overseer : 
“He  may  be  behind  that  aurochs  skin.” 

Now,  at  the  suggestion,  Simon  well-nigh  dropped. 

But  hark!  a  boisterous  laugh  greeteth  the  words  of  the  pipe-like. 
And  a  man  who  seemeth,  in  rank,  above  the  overseer  (for  that  he  is 
better  fed)  and  whose  voice  is  rich,  round  and  thunderous,  sneereth 
vibrantly :  ‘  ‘  How,  0  fool,  could  any  man  hide  behind  a  skin,  whose 
bottom  hangeth  full  three  feet  from  the  floor  ?  ’  ’ 

So  Wisdom,  only  because  it  had  a  feeble  throat,  was  crushed,  and 
Stupidity,  because  its  words  were  rich  and  deep,  and  also  for  this, 
that  it  had  a  higher  rank,  was  ruler  in  the  conclave. 

Simon,  even  when  the  crowd  was  gone  and  could  be  heard  no 
longer,  for  its  great  distance  down  the  Boman  road,  kept  on  hanging, 
the  while  he  uttered  a  prayer  of  thanksgiving  to  Jehovah,  the  God 
of  his  fathers,  for  safety  and  for  hope.  Then  he  fell  to  the  floor, 
and  knew  naught. 

When  he  had  woken,  there  was  someone  chafing  his  palms,  and 
trying  to  get  him  to  drink  both  milk  and  wine.  And  Simon  listened, 
as  well  as  he  could  for  the  drumming  in  his  ears,  and  knew  that 


280 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


the  tiny  voice  was  that  of  the  emaciated  man  who  had  said,  “  Per¬ 
chance  he  is  behind  the  skin  of  the  aurochs.  ” 

But  the  man  was  very  merciful  to  Simon,  and  Simon  heard  his 
voice  with  exceeding  pleasure,  and  drank  a  little  of  the  wine  and 
would  have  swallowed  more  of  the  milk,  but  all  at  once  the  thin¬ 
voiced  overseer,  placing  hand  to  ear  for  a  single  moment,  cried  out: 

‘  ‘  Fly !  Fly !  The  men  return,  and  they  will  kill  thee.  ’  ’ 

And  Simon  of  the  Never-resting  Soles  ran  down  through  a  heavy- 
fruited  orchard,  swam  (as  it  were)  over  a  fragrant  sea  of  meadow, 
rushed  round  into  a  garden  which  looked  like  the  dreams  of  old-time 
Tantalus,  and,  peering  all  about  if  perchance  he  might  see  some  happy 
avenue  of  exit,  beheld,  near  a  mansion,  in  a  great  high  chair,  strapped 
in  to  keep  his  rolls  of  fat  from  tumbling  forth,  a  man — or  was  it 
tallowy  mountain — engaged  in  sleep.  A  foolish  smile  rolled  round  his 
puffing  mouth  and  flabby,  floppy,  three-fold,  well  beslobbered  chin. 
There  was  smell  of  roasted  capon  all  about  him,  and  the  titillating 
pungency  of  snails. 

And  Simon  hid,  and  the  fat  man  woke,  and  cried  a  bit,  and  then 
snorted:  “Spirituality!  spirituality!  spirituality!  Oh  the  crude, 
crass  things  of  life!  Could  anyone  care  for  these,  or  for  aught  but 
spirituality  ?  ’  ’ 

Again  he  slept. 

And  Simon  watched,  being  well  hidden,  and  none  of  his  pursuers 
to  be  heard.  After  a  time,  the  big  one  once  more  awoke,  and  said: 
“I  dreamed  a  hungry  man  was  nigh.”  His  voice  was  thick  with 
snuffling  leisure,  like  the  soothe  gurgling  of  a  cask  of  Lydian  oil. 

At  that  the  Jew  was  sore  afeard,  for  he  considered:  “The  man 
hath  seen  me,  and  he  knoweth  I  am  caught,  therefore  playeth  with 
me  for  a  while.” 

But  presently  the  fat  man  brake  into  weeping,  and  said :  “If  only 
I  could  see  a  truly  starving  man  once  more,  that  might  bring  back 
mine  appetite.  0  transcendent  gastronomy!” 

At  this,  the  Jew,  confident,  stepped  forth,  and,  bowing  his  lowest 
and  brightest:  “Master,  I  starve.” 

Thereupon  the  fat  man  fairly  brake  the  strap  that  held  him  in 
his  chair,  and  fell  straightway  to  the  ground.  And  when  he  had 
gathered  his  flesh  together  about  him,  though  in  waves,  he  saith  unto 
Simon  :  * 1  Delude  not  me.  ’  ’ 

Saith  Simon  unto  him,  “I  do  not  delude  thee.  Behold,  I  starve! 
For  I  surely  am  a  philosopher,  0  Master,  and  would  teach  wisdom 
to  the  world,  but  starve  instead.  My  name  is  Simon  of  Cyrene,  and 
I  starve.” 


THE  SCHOOL 


281 


The  fat  man  shouted,  and  clasped  the  Jew  about  the  feet,  and 
laughed  and  sobbed  and  slobbered  all  of  a  time,  declaring:  “I 
thought  I  had  merely  dreamed,  but  the  gods  are  always  very  good 
to  me.  For  truly  thou  dost  starve.  And  see,  I  will  take  thee  into 
my  mansion,  and  thou  shalt  sit  before  me  while  I  do  eat  many  things. 
And  I  shall  again  have  a  good  appetite.  Come.” 

The  J ew  assisted  his  fleshiness  into  the  house. 

And  all  those  aforetime  hunters  of  the  Jew,  having  now  found 
his  traces,  came  up,  but  Gula  (for  such  the  Master  said  his  name  was) 
drave  them  off  with  a  sharp  word,  crying:  4 ‘Am  not  I  ruler  here? 
This  man  is  my  friend.  Will  ye  so  entreat  him?  Look  ye  after  the 
capons.  So.” 

And  the  hunters  slunk  away,  and  Gula  and  Simon  entered  into 
the  house,  and  took  their  places  at  a  beautiful  table. 

Then  came  the  housekeeper,  Stupiditas,  and  musicians  with  vari¬ 
ous  instruments. 

Simon  lay  at  the  opposite  end  of  the  table  from  Gula,  where  the 
gourmand  could  watch  him  closely  while  he,  even  Gula,  ate,  that  the 
starving  man  might  serve  as  the  rich  man’s  stimulant  and  appetizer. 
Gula  clapped  his  soft  fat  hands  and  gave  orders,  and  Stupiditas 
waited  upon  him  and  brought  and  set  before  him  (but  not  before 
the  Jew)  both  a  crystal  dish  of  nut-goodies  and  an  amethyst  goblet 
brimmed  with  Chian  wine.  Gula  asked,  “Wouldst  thou  not  say,  O 
starving  man,  that  a  person  should  not  drink  at  all  when  his  mouth 
is  full  of  food  ?  ’ 9 

“ I  would  say  it.” 

“Yet  wouldst  thou  be  mistaken.  Take  but  a  goodie  of  a  nut  in 
thy  mouth,  and  then  a  little  of  the  Chian  wine.  So.  Now  do  not 
be  so  foolish  as  to  chew — ” 

“I  chew  not,  0  Gula,  having  nothing  in  my  mouth  whereon  to 
chew.” 

“But  close  thine  eyes  gently,  lay  thy  head  softly  back  upon  thy 
silken  cushion,  concentrate  thy  closest  attention  on  the  heart-dear 
contrast  which  exists  (thanks  be  to  all  the  gods  therefor)  between 
the  goodie  and  the  wine. 

“Now,  when  thou  hast  that  contrast  fully  in  the  fist  of  thy  atten¬ 
tion,  then  crush  the  goodie — not  with  the  teeth,  not  with  the  little¬ 
feeling  teeth — but  by  squeezing  the  goodie  softly  against  thy  palate 
with  the  exquisite  tip  of  thy  tongue — if  starving  Jew  hath  truly 
such  an  organ. 

“Thou  hast  done  well,  but  practice  will  make  thee  perfect.” 

The  Jew  swallowed  his  spittle,  and  cried  fiercely:  “I  starve!” 


282 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


And  Gula  shrieked  with  delight. 

Then  saith  Gula  unto  him  softly,  “I  love  thee.  Where  wast 
thou  last  ?  ’ ’ 

Simon  looked  over  the  panels  of  the  room  for  a  little  time, 
observing  that  all  of  these  were  excellent  paintings  of  people  that 
were  perished  for  lack  of  food.  Then  said  he,  “I  stayed  last  at  the 
house  of  Luxurius  and  his  sister  (for  the  man  could  not  yet  bear  to 
remember  either  Invidus  or  Invida,  for  so  he  did  envy  the  people  of 
Natura  Humana  their  fixed  abode,  and  likewise  suffered  bitterly  from 
the  envy  which  Invidus  and  Invida  had  felt  against  him). 

“Foundest  thou  not  them  queer  people?” 

“They  were  queer — I  starve.” 

“Ah!  that  Luxurius  and  his  foolish  sister,  I  know  them  both. 
I  know  them,  aye  I  know  them.”  And,  as  he  nodded  to  impress 
deeply  that  he  knew,  he  suddenly  fell  asleep.  Awaking  with  a  flabby 
start,  he  cried:  “Of  what  spake  I? — Thou  liest!  I  was  not  asleep.” 

“Thou  spakest,”  said  Simon,  “concerning  that  fellow,  Lust.  Thou 
saidest  thou  didst  know  him.  ’  ’ 

A  tallowy  smile  crept  into  view  from  far  away  among  the  features 
of  the  fat  host.  “I  know,”  said  he.  “Yes,  I  know  him.  He  was 
soon  to  have  married  a  good,  pure  girl — chaste  as  Diana.  His  sister, 
too  (more  goodies  yet,  Stupiditas!)  she  would  have  been  married  to 
a  very — very —  But  the  father  of  these  children  was  a  Stoic  philoso¬ 
pher,  and  he  did  close  them  up  in  a  prison  where  each  could  never 
see  a  being  of  the  other  sex,  and  he  did  beat  them  and  maltreat  them 
even  as  Zeus  maltreated  the  old  fire-bringer,  Prometheus — which — if 
he  had  not  brought  the  fire,  we  should  not  today  have  had  any  good 
fat  capons  roasted,  or  stuffed  pigeons,  with  the  gravy  and  the  snails, 
and  all  the  other  lofty  things  that  make — ” 

“What  sayest  thou  about  Luxurius?”  brake  in  Simon,  who  still, 
with  as  hot  a  heart  as  ever,  loved  the  sister  of  that  personage.  “Of 
the  pigeons  and  the  capons,  if  it  please  you,  at  some  other  time.  ’  ’ 

Gluttony,  with  closed  eyes,  sat  still  for  a  little  while,  the  slaver 
pouring  from  his  mouth.  At  last,  with  a  great  effort,  he  sucked  up 
his  lip,  swallowed  twice  or  thrice  in  snortling  ecstasy,  and  continued : 
“Ah!  my  friend,  my  friend.  It  is  still  the  law,  as  thou  knowest. 
And  it  was  the  law  even  before  this  land  was  subjugated  by  great 
Csesar  (a  dozen  capons,  wench,  with  snails)  and  eke  by  the  ways  of 
yet  more  conquering  Greece,  that  a  parent  hath  the  power  both  of 
life  and  of  death  over  any  of  his  children.  So,  as  I  say,  the  father 
of  these  children  did  keep  them  locked  in  cells,  with  scarce  a  morsel 


THE  SCHOOL 


283 


to  eat  or  drink.  Think  of  that:  with  scarcely  a  thing  either  to  eat 
or  to  drink.  It  must  have  been  terrible,  terrible — ” 

“And  what  then  happened ?”  questioned  the  Jew. 

“The  father  died.” 

“Then  the  children  were,  at  length,  in  liberty?” 

‘  ‘  Thou  sayest  well.  They  were  more  than  in  liberty.  They  were 
in  furious,  unbounded  license  and  illimitable  self -gratification.  They 
turned  to  unlawful  delights — whereof,  no  doubt,  thou  wottest  well. 
Neither  of  them  twain  hath  ever  married,  preferring,  in  the  room 
of  that,  to  live  alone  together,  and  so  to  assist  each  other  in  the  pro¬ 
curement  of  that  which — is — very — unlawful.  And  how  do  they  eat, 
that  bad  man  and  his  sister?  Like  lunatics.  Not,  0  Jew,  as  I  myself 
do  eat,  with  full  appreciation  of  the  godlike  food  (ah!  the  capons! 
good!)  listening  the  while  (a  dozen  more,  Stupiditas!)  as  it  were,  to 
the  ecstatic  music  which  viands,  well  harmonized —  But,  in  the 
name  of  Apollo  and  all  his  strings,  ye  strange  musicians,  why  are 
ye  not  playing  to  the  meal?” 

“We  were  only  waiting,”  declared  the  leader  of  the  musical  band, 
“for  thy  signal,  0  Master.” 

“The  signal,”  cried  the  gourmand,  “is  always  this,  that  I  eat. 
See,  it  is  capons  I  now  begin  on.  Play  therefore  something  heavy 
and  in  the  Dorian  mode,  precisely  as  Stupiditas  did  days  ago  instruct 
thee.” 

The  musicians  began,  and,  while  they  played,  Gula  went  on  to 
explain  to  the  Jew  that,  with  certain  kinds  of  dishes  ’twere  fitting 
that  the  Dorian  mode  be  followed  by  the  instruments — as,  to  wit, 
with  capons,  pigeons  stuffed  with  tongues  of  nightingales,  peacocks 
and  snails  and  the  seven  important  mushrooms,  and  so  forth  and  so 
on.  Heavy  and  sombre  dishes  all  of  them,  with  a  certain  solemnity 
attached,  and  eke  sublimity.  Then,  meadow  birds,  and  eggs  both  of 
larks  and  of  tortoises,  and  also  bread  boiled  with  bones,  and  things  of 
such  lighter  and  more  frippy  character,  were  better  accompanied  by 
the  Phrygian  scale.  Fish  demandeth  something  lighter  still,  say  the 
Lydian  or  the  Myxolydian.  Then  fruit  and  pastries  (thank  the  gods 
for  these)  take  up  the  lightest  and  most  delicate  of  manners — for 
ensample  the  lively  Hypolydian  or  Aeolic.  Jew,  sit  up.  I  cannot 
spare  thee  so.” 

The  sweet  musicians  played  in  the  Doric  mode  divinely,  and  the 
Jew  suffered,  and  Stupiditas  did  wait  with  all  her  silly  speed,  while 
the  great,  broad,  pasty  jowls  of  Gula  snatched  and  puffed  and 
smacked,  opened  and  closed  and  smacked,  snortling  again  and  con¬ 
tinually.  4  ‘  Capons — more.  ’  ’  The  wee  eyes  sparkled.  ‘  ‘  Capons  again, 


284 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


Stupiditas !  ’ 9  The  pyramid  of  strong,  energetic  chins — the  last  one 
lost  beneath  the  loose  top  edge  of  his  blue  garment — did  roll  them¬ 
selves  inward  and  again  out-roll  themselves  to  the  dignified  march  of 
the  music.  “Chup-chup!  Chup-chup !  Puff-smack,  chop-ehup ! 
Jew.  it  is  surely  delightful! 

“Stay  here  and  starve  for  me,  0  Jew.  So  should  I  come,  in  time, 
to  be  as  slothful  as  is  that  easy  man,  Aecidius;  to  lose  that  over- 
active  way  of  life  which  now — though  all  about  me  were  as  cross  as 
is  his  foul-tongued  consort,  Ira.  Stay,  0  stay!  Wilt  thou  not — V9 

But  Simon  brake  in  upon  him:  “What  wages  for  me,  if  I  do 
stay  ? ’  ’ 

“Wages !”  shrieked  the  fat  one.  “Wages!  Jew,  thou’rt  mad. 
With  wages  thou  wouldst  eat.  Then  what  service  couldst  thou 
render  ? 9  9 

But  the  Jew  rose,  and  crying :  “I  tell  thee  of  a  verity  I  will  eat,” 
seized  a  dozen  capons  and  a  skin  of  wine,  and,  making  a  hurried 
gesture  of  farewell,  ran  out  by  the  garden  passage  and  so  off. 

And  he  went  down  into  a  desert  place,  and  was  himself,  at 
heart,  a  gourmand.  But  all  that  was  in  his  thoughts  may  no  other 
man  know. 

And  after  certain  days  had  been  fulfilled,  he  entered  again  the 
roads  of  Aquitania,  and  marching  now  by  day  and  yet  again  by 
night,  he  saw  the  suculce  (or  “little  pigs”)  were  setting  at  both  the 
morning  and  the  evening  twilight,  so  that  wet  and  stormy  weather 
was,  of  a  surety,  at  hand.  And  he  looked  for  shelter,  but  found  none. 

So  he  came,  on  a  time,  to  a  very  gentle  by-way  which  led  out 
through  a  sea  of  meadow,  and,  in  the  deepest  portion  of  the  field,  a 
brook,  whose  sounds  were  like  the  many  voices  of  forgotten  dreams. 
And  he  asked  that  God  should  bless  that  land.  Yet  he  forgot  to 
give  alms. 

And  here  he  lay,  as  in  a  trance,  both  slumbering  and  sleeping,  and 
harboring  thoughts  that  owe  no  allegiance  unto  time.  But  now  and 
again  he  was  woken  by  the  crumblings  of  detestable  thunder,  and 
little  spittings  of  rain  into  his  face. 

So  at  length  he  arose  and  betook  himself  once  more  to  his  journey, 
saying:  “Such  ill  fortunes  I  have  had  at  the  houses  which  promised 
me  much,  I  will  now  seek  out  the  most  repugnant  hovel  which  I 
can  find.  ’  ’  And  he  passed  a  number  of  mansions.  Then  he  saw  on  a 
low  horizon,  straight  away  before  him,  or  it  might  have  been  a  little 
in  the  sky,  an  uncertain  shape,  perchance  a  changeful  cloud,  but  it 
resembled  a  pillowy  bed,  with  an  irate  giant,  club  in  hand,  standing 
over  it.  As  he  drew  on,  he  saw  that  the  seeming  bed  was  the 


THE  SCHOOL 


285 


wretcliedest  house  which  he  ever  had  seen,  while  the  giant  was  a  great 
tree  with  a  blasted  branch  running  out  over  the  building. 

There  came  from  afar  the  sound  of  Roman  trumpets,  blowing 
terror.  Also,  a  wee  wind  began  for  to  whine.  Suddenly — a  quick 
pattering,  and  the  Jew  believed  that  heavy  rain  had  begun  to  fall. 
But,  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye,  behold!  an  enormous  Ethiopian, 
standing  before  him. 

For  then  a  little  while  the  slave  gazed  at  the  Jew  with  great 
astonishment.  By  degrees,  the  look  passed,  and,  in  its  room,  came  a 
stare  of  wonder,  almost  worship. 

The  black  fell  down,  clasping  Simon’s  shoes.  “Me  saw  you  in 
Mines.  Me  wanderer  also.” 

“I  have  been  in  the  Mines,”  saith  Simon. 

“You  Simon  of  Cyrene.  Me  Cush.  Come  legionaries — yonder. 
You  save  Cush.” 

Now  Simon  bade  the  man  arise,  and,  when  he  had  arisen,  the  Jew 
saw  that  also  his  forehead  had  been  branded,  but  with  this  word — 
“Despicatus”  (The  Despised).  Then  remembered  Simon  that  he 
had  seen  the  black  aforetime  in  the  Mines. 

And  he  began  to  have  compassion  over  this  man,  but  would  not 
that  this  should  be.  Therefore  said  he,  roughly:  “Seest  thou  not 
I  cannot  help  thee  in  any  wise,  being  also  a  fugitive  ?  Get  thee  gone.  ’  ’ 

The  blackamoor  fell  down  again  at  the  Jew’s  feet,  beseeching 
that  he  would  take  the  suppliant  into  his  service.  “Though  Cush  out 
of  Mines,”  saith  he,  “Cush  know  not  where  go,  or  what  do.  Take 
Cush.  He  serve  well.  Be  only  kind.” 

Waxed  Simon  wroth.  He  gat  him  up  and  spurned  the  Ethiopian, 
and  drave  him  from  his  sight,  crying  wildly :  “Have  I  not  given  thee 
answer?  Be  gone.” 

But  when  the  black  had  vanished,  Simon  began  to  consider  whether 
he  had  done  rightly.  Said  he,  “I  could  have  had  him  as  my  servant, 
and  might  have  begun  some  mercantile  affair  on  a  small  scale  with 
a  strong  man  for  my  helper.” 

He  tried  to  form  more  plainly  the  plans  which,  even  within  the 
Mines,  had  started  to  take  shape — plans,  that  is,  for  the  amassing  of 
wealth — whereby  power  and  safety  might  be  possible  even  for  him. 
Simon  of  Cyrene. 

But  the  weather  was  hot,  and  all  the  air  and  the  woods  and  the 
fields  and  the  sky,  were,  as  a  person  might  say,  full  of  idleness  and 
dreaming — though,  far  away,  a  flock  of  migratory  birds  were  winging 
their  laborious  passage  toward  the  southeast,  with  anxious  flappings 
of  wings  and  extravagant  clamor.  And  he  envied  the  laboring  birds. 


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because  they  went  toward  Rome,  and  were  not  afeard.  And  he 
thought  of  the  days  in  far-off  Cyrenaica,  when  he  used  to  look  and 
yearn  toward  Rome.  But  so  great  was  the  languor  all  around,  that, 
but  for  the  growing  darkness  and  the  heapings  up  of  thunder-heads 
and  a  far-off  flashing  and  muttering,  he  would  not  have  set  forward 
at  all  that  day,  but  only  have  lingered  in  the  meadows  and  on  the 
sweet  hills  like  a  truant  which  hath  given  the  slip  to  both  master  and 
pedagogue. 

Now  he  began  to  look  again  at  the  rickety  house,  which  was  all 
unsmeared  of  its  ochre,  but  a  little  yellow  and  red.  As  he  came  up 
closer,  he  heard  a  shrill  voice  crying  within :  1  i  Did  I  not  say  unto 
thee  that  so  it  would  happen?  And  have  not  my  words  proved  true? 
Answer  me.  Answer  me,  Accidius.” 

The  slow,  deep  voice  of  a  man  protested:  “Why  wakest  thou 
me  with  clacking  ?  I  have  had  but  one  good  wink  of  sleep  this  whole 
week.  Now  thou  breakest  into  that.  ’ ’ 

“Thou  liest,  sluggard,’’  the  voice  went  on.  “Thou  liest.  Twice 
daily  hast  thou  been  to  the  tavern,  and  only  then  didst  thou  waken. 
Why  workest  thou  not  sixteen  hours  per  day,  even  as  thy  parents 
did  bring  thee  up  to  do?  Thou  mightest  thus  have  been  a  man  of 
wealth,  whereby  thy  wife  could  now  be  living  in  ease  and  luxury. 
And  then  hadst  thou  seen  fit  to  lie  down  and  sleep  even  forevermore — 
well  enough.  I  could  have  remarried.” 

“Would  to  God  I  had  so  lain  down  or  ere  I  had  seen  thee.  Or 
would  thou  hadst  remarried  to  begin  with.  Let  me  sleep.  ’  ’ 

“Wilt  thou  be  ever  sleeping?” 

“Wilt  thou  be  ever  clacking?” 

“Up,  sluggard!” 

“Silence,  hussy!” 

“Up!” 

“Silence!” 

“Up,  up,  up!” 

“Silence,  silence,  silence!  Oh,  by  the  gods  of  Hell!  that  I  might 
have  had  a  home  that  Morpheus  would  not  disdain  to  visit !  ’  ’ 

‘ 1  By  the  gods  of  hospitality !  that  I  might  have  had  a  house 
wherein  some  humblest  visitor  would  not  be  ashamed—” 

“Tap,  tap,  tap!”  went  the  Jew  at  the  door,  and  the  voices  were 
hushed. 

After  a  time  he  knocked  again.  Then  the  scared  words  of  the 
husband:  “By  the  gods  that  work  themselves  to  death,  hast  thou, 
O  Ira,  sent  for  anyone  that  would  put  me  to  industry  ?  ’  ’ 

“Nay,  0  Accidius.  But,  by  the  gods  that  had  wives  the  which 


THE  SCHOOL 


287 


they  had  never  merited,  thou  shalt  get  thee  out  from  the  straw,  and 
see  who  knocketh  on  yonder  lintel.  Come,  come!  I  have  thee !  So!” 

And  Simon  hearetli  both  shuffling  and  determined  steps. 

And  the  door  flung  open. 

And  behold,  she  that  was  wife  thrust  forward  in  the  view  of 
Simon  her  husband’s  head,  the  which  she  did  support  and  manipulate 
in  the  rear  by  the  nape  of  its  well-maned  neck. 

The  frowsy  head,  peering  with  narrow,  red-rimmed,  and  gently 
blinking  eyes,  saith  unto  him:  “Come  in,  who’er  thou  art,  and  lay 
thee  beside  me  (who  am  Accidius  or  Sloth)  upon  the  straw.  And 
what  if  Ira  rail?  The  whole  world  raileth.  But  he  that  sleepeth 
knoweth  not:  therefore  sleep  eternally.  I  have  made  a  long  speech. 
Come  in.” 

But  the  voice  of  Ira  screamed:  “Yea,  come  in.  Come  in  and 
help  to  awaken  Accidius,  that  he  shall  attend  to  his  work.  It  may 
happen  thou  knowest  new  words  of  revilement  or  damnation.  So 
come  in.” 

But  Simon  shuddered,  and  was  suddenly  filled  with  disgust.  Said 
he,  “Good-bye  to  you  both,  0  Sloth  and  Ire.  For  I  have  lately  been 
contaminate  by  many  filthy  creatures,  but,  by  you,  I  will  not  be 
contaminate.  Therefore,  farewell.”  And  he  not  so  much  as  entered 
into  the  house  of  Ira  and  Accidius. 

And  he  went  down  into  a  desert  place,  and  all  that  was  in  his 
heart  may  no  other  man  know. 

And  he  lay  him  down  in  the  desert,  for  he  was  very  weary,  first 
looking  round,  and  seeing  at  a  Sabbath  day’s  journey  a  man  that 
moved  slowly  along  the  distant  Homan  road.  Drest  was  he  in  a  gar¬ 
ment  of  dingy  yellow,  as  he  were  a  careless  merchant  or  a  strange 
philosopher,  and  he  rode  a  milk-white  steed.  His  beard  was  very 
black  and  very  glossy  and  very  long. 

And,  as  Simon  had  laid  him  down  and  yet  was  looking  toward  the 
man,  he  fell  fast  asleep,  and  began  to  dream  the  gloomiest  and  most 
distressing  dreams. 

He  went  on  from  one  thing  to  another  till  he  found  himself, 
as  he  thought,  at  wandering  in  a  tawny  desert,  where  nothing  beside 
the  yellow  sands  were,  saving  long  dark  shadows  and  the  short  yellow 
stones  which  cast  them. 

And  he  said,  “These  short,  clear  stones  and  the  long  dim  shadows 
which  they  cast,  are  after  the  manner  of  Lampadephorus’s  allegories, 
for  behold  those  tales  were  ever  brief  and  clear,  yet  each  did  bring 
beside  it  a  long  meaning  in  which  full  many  things  were  hid.  ’  ’  And, 
even  in  his  very  sleep,  he  laughed. 


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SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


A  voice  thereupon  said  unto  him,  “So  be  it,  and  behold!” 

And  he  looked,  and  after  a  time  saw  that  the  stones  were  centuries 
which  were  slowly  crumbling  into  grains  of  night-separated  days  and 
close- jointed  hours  and  the  all-constructing  moments. 

And  he  said,  “Is  there  nothing  here  but  centuries  that  crumble 
into  days  and  hours  and  the  sixtieth  portions  of  the  hours  ?  ’  ’ 

And  the  Voice,  which  was  everywhere  and  yet  nowhere,  said : 
“Yea,  look  yonder  and  thou  wilt  perceive  a  mountain,  out  of  which 
the  centuries  themselves  are  crumbled,  and,  in  the  rear  of  that,  an 
infinity  of  mountains — for  these  are  the  Peaks  of  Time.” 

Simon  said  to  the  Voice,  “Is  there  nothing  at  all,  0  Voice,  behind 
the  infinity  of  mountains  ?  ’ ’ 

The  Voice  said,  “Yea,  an  infinity  of  other  mountains,  each  of 
which  is  like  unto  an  infinity,  as  compared  with  that  infinity  that  is 
nearer.  ’  ’ 

“And  what,”  said  then  the  dreamer,  “is  back  behind  the  ultimate 
infinity  of  mountains?” 

“Hush!”  said  the  Voice,  “for,  if  I  told  thee,  thou  wouldst  die.” 

Then  was  the  heart  of  the  Jew  dismayed,  for  he  feared  to  be  in 
a  place  where  nothing  was  but  only  the  Voice  and  himself,  and  the 
centuries  which  labored  imperceptibly  at  the  making  of  the  years, 
the  days,  and  the  minutes,  and  the  mountains  behind  the  mountains, 
and,  far  in  the  rear  of  those  mighty  summits,  a  thing  which  he  did 
not  dare  to  comprehend,  lest  indeed  he  should  perish  because  of  the 
understanding. 

So  he  cried  aloud  and  said  unto  the  Voice:  “0  Voice,  I  am  sore 
afeard,  and  believe  I  am  lost  in  a  dream,  and  shall  never  come  forth 
out  of  it  again  into  reality.” 

The  Voice  said,  “Hast  thou  ever,  at  any  time,  known  Reality? 
But  look  and  behold  and  perceive  one  thing  that  thou  mayst  truly 
know.  ’  ’ 

The  Jew  looked  and  beheld,  and  perceived,  coming  straight  toward 
him  among  the  long,  dim  shadows  and  the  short  clear  stones,  over  the 
dead  years  and  the  dead  hours  and  the  dead  minutes,  all  those  one- 
ideaed  folk  at  whose  houses  he  had  lately  stopped:  black-gowned, 
sharp-visaged,  high-treading  Superbus,  boasting  of  genealogies. 
Next  to  him,  the  bony  Avaritius,  sputtering  and  grasping  with  super¬ 
numerary  fingers  after  the  necessities  of  other  men.  Then  the  slight 
maiden,  Luxuria,  with  her  innocent,  lust-lighted  eyes.  Invidus  and 
Invida  next,  purple  and  luckless  with  hate  of  others’  weal.  Then 
Gula,  crying:  “Will  no  one  starve  for  me?”  Finally,  Accidius, 


THE  SCHOOL 


289 


walking  as  half  asleep,  and  belabored  at  every  step  by  shrieking  Ire — 
but,  when  these  twain  beheld  the  Jew,  they  halted. 

And,  as  so  often  happens  in  a  dream,  there  were  changes  and 
unaccountable  blendings  of  one  person  with  another.  And  the  Jew 
looked  with  wonderment  and  increasing  awe. 

The  features  of  all  these  strangely  distorted  people,  saving  Ira 
and  Accidius  alone,  began  to  take  on  for  him  a  familiar  expression, 
the  people  themselves  to  draw  up  closer  each  to  each.  At  length  they 
merged  into  only  one  gigantic  person  which  got  itself  incontinently 
upon  a  black  pedestal,  and  looked  at  the  Jew  with  a  stony  stare 
which  aroused  in  his  heart  a  sickening  self-consciousness. 

And  behold,  The  Thing  had  become  a  graven  image,  with  strange 
suggestions  in  its  eyes  both  of  animals  and  of  gods. 

And  the  face  of  the  image  appeared  as  if  known  to  the  Jew,  and 
Simon  beheld  and  saw  that  the  features  were  his  own.  Yea,  the  idol 
was  indeed  becoming  himself. 

And  in  front  of  this  ego  (spite  of  his  utmost  power  of  will  against 
the  act)  the  man  cast  himself  prostrate,  and  worshipped.  Again  and 
yet  again,  whether  he  would  or  no,  he  worshipped,  in  ceaseless  and 
passionate  adoration. 

Then  the  Voice  took  shape,  and  became  Ophidion,  which  laughed 
the  worshipper  to  scorn,  saying:  “Thou  wilt  be  ever  an  idolater,  O 
priest  of  the  Almighty,  for  thou  wilt  worship  either  dead  wood  or 
ravening  beasts,  or  the  multiplied  empty  forms  of  thine  own  religion, 
or  else  these — the  base  passions  which  are  become  thyself.  And  even 
in  the  future  (if  this  image  here  and  I  did  suffer  thee  to  live)  thou 
wouldst  worship  little  gems  and  gold,  and  yet  one  other,  and  even 
baser  thing,  which  I  would  tell  thee  of,  but  that,  if  I  told  thee,  thou 
mightest  find  some  joy  therein.  Pah!  Thou  a  priest  of  holiness !” 

The  Jew  cried. unto  the  Mocker,  “I  pray  thee,  let  this  thing  pass 
from  me,  for  I  declare  unto  thee,  first,  that  all  these  distorted  people 
have  been  as  a  school  to  me,  and  next,  that  all  the  time  when  I 
consorted  with  them  (but  never  with  Accidius  and  Ira)  I  was  thinking 
solely  of  Amahnah,  and  how  I  might  yet  return  unto  her,  but  behold, 
I  was  fain,  for  a  time,  to  keep  going  onward  into  the  distance,  that 
I  might  remain  out  of  the  Mines  of  the  Wretched — the  whereunto 
thou  thyself  didst  cause  that  I  should  be  imprisoned.  Moreover,  that 
very  confinement  did  so  shape  me  that  I  became  an  easier  prey  to 
those  people.” 

But  Ophidion  answered,  “It  is  habit  now,  this,  thy  newer, 
idolatry.  In  any  case  see !  This  image  is  alive.  It  and  I  will  strangle 
thee  unto  destruction,  and  send  thy  worthless  soul  to  Hades.  ’  ’ 

19 


290 


SIMON  OF  GYRENE 


So  the  image  came  down  from  its  pedestal,  and,  together  with 
Ophidion,  laid  hands  upon  the  Jew,  and  would  surely  have  strangled 
him,  but  that  a  flash  showed  and  thunder  resounded  and  a  great, 
bright  angel  came  flying  from  across  the  Peaks  of  Time,  and  put  the 
grim  adversaries  of  the  Jew  into  confusion  and  drave  them  far  away, 
crying  unto  Simon:  1  ‘This  is  merely  a  dream,  for  many  strange 
things  shall  lie  about  thee  in  the  World  of  Waking,  to  be  done  by 
thy  hands;  and  some  of  thy  thoughts  thyself  shalt  surely  imagine, 
and  others  shall  come  unto  thee — who  shall  say  from  whence?  But 
behold,  the  plan  is  wholly  God’s. — Wilt  thou  not  be  about  His 
business?  Wilt  thou  not  awake?  Wilt  thou  not  awake?” 


CHAPTER  XXXIV 
Levitas,  in  Gaul 

And  behold,  Simon  was  truly  awakening,  while  Cush,  the  Ethi¬ 
opian,  did  pluck  him  by  his  sleeve,  crying :  ‘  ‘  Master,  it  thundereth 

and  there  is  one  would  speak  with  thee.  Wilt  thou  not  awake?  See! 
he  may  be  as  a  friend !  ’  ’ 

And  the  Jew  beheld  that  the  man  who  would  speak  unto  him  was 
the  merchant  (or  be  it  some  philosopher)  who  sate  in  a  yellow  garment 
on  a  white  horse,  and  whom  he  had  seen  a-coming  straight  toward 
him,  ere  he  had  fallen  asleep. 

The  Jew  laughed,  saying:  “Such  a  foolish  dream!  I  crave  thy 
pardon,  Lord.  I  had  thought  I  should  never  have  come  forth  out  of 
that  dream,  so  long  did  I  seem  to  remain  in  it,  but  behold,  I  have  slept 
but  merely  one  or  two  moments  of  time.  ’  ’ 

The  man  smiled  also,  saying:  “Life  is  but  a  dream.  Nothing  at 
all  exists.  We  fall  asleep  only  from  one  dream  to  another,  and 
merely  waken  to  the  first  again.”  Then,  after  a  course  of  speech  as 
concerning  many  things,  he  saith  to  the  Jew :  “  My  name  is  Skepticus, 
my  calling  that  of  a  philosopher.  Art  thou  Simon,  aforetime  of 
Cyrene  ?  ’  ’ 

The  Jew  answered  and  said  unto  him,  “I  will  not  deny  it.  Thou 
sayest  I  am.” 

Then  saith  the  man,  “I  know  that  thou  hast  escaped  from  the 
mines  of  Caesar,  and  yet  I  will  not  inform  concerning  thee,  but  will 
tell  thee  something  useful  (before,  good  sooth,  I  break  unto  thee  mad 
and  melancholy  tidings).  And  the  useful  thing — that  which  I  would 
tell  thee  first — is,  namely,  that  this  Ophidion,  otherwise  called  Sarcog- 
enes,  who  is  a  Christian  and  thy  worst  enemy,  hath  ceased  to  be  a 


THE  SCHOOL 


291 


delator  (albeit  he  was  aforetime  the  prince  of  the  body  of  delators), 
and  hath  become,  instead,  a  comes  principis,  companion  unto  Caesar, 
and  sittcth  not  infrequently  at  Caesar’s  right  hand.  He  hath,  then, 
I  need  not  tell  thee,  0  Simon  of  Cyrene,  great  dominion  over  thee, 
and  willeth,  if  thou  be  but  caught,  that  thou  shouldst  be  returned 
unto  the  Mines,  or  else  crucified.  For  he  hath  an  idea,  this  foolish 
Ophidion  (wise  and  cunning  as  he  is  in  many  other  respects)  that, 
by  inflicting  punishment  upon  thee,  he  punisheth  some  god — or  at 
least  interfereth  with  that  god’s  work. 

“Now,  it  is  clear  that  a  man  cannot  interfere  with  the  work  of 
any  god.  Moreover,  there  is  no  god.  But,  however  it  be  about  these 
matters,  I  have  told  thee  truly,  and  desire  but  to  place  thee  on  thy 
guard  as  toucheth  Ophidion.  For  lo !  I  have  learned  of  thy  sufferings 
and  am  wounded  by  them.  Moreover,  I  wished  to  speak  about  these 
lesser  things  before  I  gave  thee  the  far  greater  tidings,  which  chiefly 
I  did  come  hither  (having  learned  about  thee  in  the  night)  to  inform 
thee  concerning.” 

Simon  thanked  the  man,  and  began  trembling. 

Then  said  Skepticus,  “Canst  thou  bear  a  heavy  word,  standing  up 
under  it?” 

Simon  answered  him,  “I  have  already  borne  many  things,  most 
of  them  heavy  as  lead.” 

But  Skepticus:  “Yet  this  one  thing  I  fear  thou  canst  not  bear.” 
He  looked  the  Jew  in  the  eye  with  commiseration. 

Then  went  the  Jew  straight  up  to  the  philosopher,  and  laid  heavy 
hands  upon  him,  crying:  “How  is  it  with  Amahnah — for  I  have 
loved  her  day  and  night,  both  in  the  Mines  and  since  I  escaped. 
Tell  me,  and  deny  me  nothing.” 

The  man,  turning  his  face  away,  saith  unto  Simon:  “Amahnah 
is  dead.” 

“My  children — those  precious  babes?” 

“Become  Christians.” 

The  Jew  began  to  pray  fearfully  for  Amahnah,  yet  also  to  curse 
his  two  sons. 

And  Skepticus,  after  a  time,  looking  afar  off,  told  the  Jew  how 
his  wife  and  children  had  suffered  shipwreck,  and  that  now  no  hope 
was  had  at  all  of  Amahnah.  “They  three  were  coming,”  said  he, 
“from  Jerusalem  to  Rome — no  doubt  in  search  of  thee.  I  was  aboard 
their  ship,  and  a  clansman  of  thine  also,  thy  former  teacher,  Parush. 
A  storm  arose.  And  Parush  took  the  helm  even  out  of  the  hands 
of  the  gubernator.  And  the  ship  struck  a  rock.  We  twain  saw  thy 
loved  ones  sink  beneath  the  waves.  But  the  children  were  rescued. 


292 


SIMON  OF  GYRENE 


Parush — lie  liveth  now  in  Rome,  in  the  quarter  of  the  Jews,  but  I 
who  am  travelling  ever,  both  up  and  down  the  world,  I  promised 
both  to  Parush  and  to  myself  that  I  would  find  thee  out  and  instruct 
thee  as  concerning  these  things.  What,  Simon !  Canst  thou  not  stand 
up  still  V’ 

But  when  the  philosopher  saw  that  the  Jew  could  no  longer  keep 
straight,  but  had  fallen,  he  stayed  not  then  to  comfort  him,  but  rode 
away,  calling  back,  however:  “Thou  hast  a  servant  (whose  name 
seemeth,  rightly  enough,  to  be  ‘Despicatus’).  He  will  see  to  thy 
bodily  necessities.  And  I  have  other  aims,  for  behold  I  am  even  now 
due  at  the  Castle  of  Levitas,  in  the  heart  of  Gaul.,, 

And  the  blackamoor  did  help,  having  compassion  on  his  master, 
saying,  time  and  yet  again:  “Comfort,  Lord!  Be  comforted.  Some 
philosophers  say,  ‘Be  humble/  ” 

And  after  a  time  the  Jew  rose  up,  apostrophizing:  “0  Amahnah 
thou  art  dead,  and  our  children  were  even  better  in  their  graves. 
Let  them  be  accursed.  But  if  ever  I  forget  thee,  Amahnah,  let  my 
right  hand  forget  its  cunning.  Thou  shalt  be,  at  the  least,  as  a 
beautiful  memory  unto  me,  0  lovely  Covenant,  and  shalt  protect  me 
from  the  ways  of  the  heathen  for  so  long  as  I  shall  live.” 

But  in  his  soul  he  felt  a  desire  for  further  discourse  with  that 
philosopher  which  had  brought  him  the  news  of  Amahnah ’s  death, 
for  he  thought  that  the  philosopher  must  know  more  things  about  his 
wife’s  departure.  So  he  said  to  Cush,  or  Despicatus:  “Knowest 
thou  which  way  he  went,  the  man  that  was  just  here?” 

Cush  said,  “Yea;  philosopher  say  he  go  Castle  of  Levitas,  in 
heart  of  Gaul.” 

Then  said  Simon,  “Cush,  I  will  take  thee  as  my  servant  from 
now  henceforth.  And  first  we  will  go  to  the  Castle  of  Levitas,  for 
I  must  speak  again  with  Skepticus.  And  next  we  will  take  us  to 
Toletanum,1  back  in  Spain,  and,  next  thereafter,  when  I  shall  have 
learned  the  language  of  the  place,  we  shall  take  us  to  a  wild  and 
distant  country.  Wilt  thou  go  with  me?  Up  then!  Let  us  be  on 
the  road.” 

When  they  had  fared  for  many  days  they  came  to  a  sunny,  but 
withal  stormy,  province,  known  as  Otium,  where  the  going  was  very 
bad ;  thence  to  Ebrietas,  a  pleasant  land  of  many  rich  grapes,  but 
foully  beset  with  tipsy  people;  and  at  length  unto  another  known 
as  Ebriositas,  a  place  of  great  drunkards  and  naked  poverty,  which 
depended  for  its  upkeep  on  Ebrietas.  And  in  neither  of  these  lands 


1  The  modern  Toledo,  famous  even  in  antiquity  for  its  manufacture  of  steel. 


THE  SCHOOL 


293 


did  Simon  of  Cyrene  become  a-drunken.  Neither  did  he  permit  that 
his  servant  should  become  so. 

And  they  came  to  the  city  of  Yolutabrum  (which,  being  inter¬ 
preted,  meaneth  “A  wallowing-place  for  swine”).  Going  into  a 
tavern,  seeking  rest  and  sustenance,  they  beheld  that  the  place  was 
filled  with  drunken  roysterers.  And  when  these  had  expended  all 
their  moneys,  and  could  buy  no  more  wine,  then  slipped  one  of  them 
back  behind  the  Jew  and  struck  him  with  a  weapon,  that  he  fell 
senseless. 

And  Despicatus  fled. 

But  the  drunkards  took  the  Jew’s  bulga  and  his  scrip,  and  having 
laid  the  man’s  body  in  a  field  at  the  outskirts  of  the  city,  returned 
to  their  roystering. 

And  Simon  awoke.  And  he  said,  4 ‘Behold,  even  if  a  man  be  not 
himself  a  drunkard,  yet,  by  the  mere  association  with  such  fellows, 
he  is  bound  to  lose.  Lucky  am  I  that  I  carried  not  my  riches  in  a 
single  place,  but  have  still  about  me  a  golden  girdle.  And  all  these 
things  shall  be  as  a  school  to  me  hereafter.” 

And  just  beyond  the  borders  of  Ebriositas,  he  asked  again  his 
way. 

The  drunkard  which  answered,  said  unto  him:  “The  Castle  of 
Levitas?  It  stands  but  a  valley  or  two  distant — on  the  airiest  pin¬ 
nacle  of  rock  that  ever  a  castle  was  built  on.  That  castle  will  fall, 
on  a  day.  But  it  standeth,  as  now,  in  the  heart  of  Gaul.  ’Tis  the 
only  place  that  the  Romans  themselves  could  not  quite  demolish. 
Mayhap  ’twill  fall  of  itself.  Meantime  it  is  a  lovely  edifice  enough.  ’  ’ 

“And  this  Levitas,”  asked  Simon,  “who  is  he?  And  will  he 
be  like  to  give  me  a  welcome?” 

“He  is  Count  of  all  the  Parisii,”  said  the  drunkard,  “and  he 
welcometh  all  men,  so  they  come  with  song  and  mirth  and  no  heavy 
business  or  sorrow — unless  indeed  it  be  hidden  in  their  hearts.  Hark ! 
Methought  I  could  hear  for  a  moment  certain  sounds  of  his  mad 
revelry.  Go  ye  across  the  valley  of  Men’s  Bones,  which  beginneth 
yonder,  and  then  ye  shall  surely  hear  his  shouts,  and  so  be  guided.” 

Simon  did  as  the  drunkard  had  told  him,  and  when  he  had  crossed 
the  valley  which  was  covered  with  the  skeletons  of  men,  he  heard 
indeed  the  wild,  uproarious  festivities  of  Levitas  and  his  drunken 
crew,  and,  going  but  a  valley  or  so  farther  onward,  beheld  the  scarlet 
castle  with  its  pennants  flying,  built  solely  upon  a  great  black  rock 
which  jutted  far  out  over  an  immeasurable  abyss. 

But  Simon  toiled  on  up  to  the  castle.  And  having  come  to  the 
drawbridge,  he  said :  “I  bring  no  heavy  business  or  sorrow,  but 


294 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


wish  to  be  admitted  to  the  gaities.”  So  he  was  let  in  by  the  porter, 
and  on  to  the  feasting-room. 

And  there  was  Skepticus  a-revelling,  but  far  too  drunk  to  talk. 
And  the  Jew  passed  him  by,  and,  being  drawn  by  the  music  and 
the  multitudes,  and  by  mere  human  curiosity,  went  on  farther  into 
the  room,  a  hall  incredibly  vast,  in  which  were  packed  whole  thou¬ 
sands  of  people,  both  men  and  women,  some  lying  at  table  and  others 
thronging  up  or  down  the  aisles.  And  all  were  dressed  in  the  gayest 
of  costumes.  Some  in  bright  green,  spotted  with  yellow  moons  and 
suns.  Others  in  scarlet,  studded  with  white  or  black  death’s  heads. 
Still  others  in  orange,  with  amethystine  stars.  The  women  were 
decked  out  even  more  grotesquely  than  the  men — some  being  laced 
and  frilled  and  padded  and  stuffed  and  painted  and  tinted  and 
dimpled  and  dusted  and  beauty-patched  and  powdered,  until  they 
had  lost  all  semblance  unto  human  creatures.  Some  wore  cherries 
of  glass.  Others,  strings  of  dead  birds.  One  was  clad  in  a  veil  of 
tight  gauze,  through  which  her  entire  nakedness  could  be  beheld, 
and  round  her  neck  clanked  a  string  of  poor  men’s  bones.  The 
woman  boasted  openly  that  the  bones  were  the  bones  of  the  poor. 
‘‘Those  foolish  fellows  would  surely  have  thrown  away  their  lives 
in  any  case,”  said  she;  “what  matter?”  And  the  freak  of  gauze 
and  nakedness  and  the  bones  of  many  toilers  called  forth  the  admira¬ 
tion  of  all  the  other  women,  who  from  time  to  time  did  press  about 
her,  shoving  and  elbowing  mightily.  “Hail  to  Madam  Mos!  Hail 
to  the  Domina,  hail  to  the  Madam!  Her  gown  is  by  Monstrosus 
in  Letitia!” 

From  time  to  time,  too,  the  crowd  was  scattered  by  men  bearing 
litters  whereon  were  certain  dead.  Simon  asked  of  a  henchman,  who 
were  they  that  had  died.  The  man  said,  Oh,  certain  ones  that  had 
perished  in  the  duel,  or  else  by  assaults,  or,  it  might  be,  in  a  drunken 
apoplexy,  or  else  by  their  own  hands. 

“And  where  do  they  take  those  corpses?”  asked  the  Jew. 

“Into  the  Valley  of  Men’s  Bones,”  answered  the  henchman,  “just 
out  of  sight  of  this  castle — there  to  fritter  away  and  finally  to  bleach 
out — as  thou  didst  see,  of  a  surety,  when  thou  earnest  hither.” 

“And  worship  these  people  no  god?” 

“No  god!”  exclaimed  the  man  in  deep  amaze.  “All  men  wor¬ 
ship  gods,  and  those  in  this  castle  worship  mostly  Venus,  Bacchus 
and  Phallus. — What  art  thou,  as  in  religion?” 

“I  am  a  Jew,”  said  Simon  of  Cyrene.  “And  I  worship  the  one 
and  only  God,  which  is  Jehovah.  His  name  was  before  the  begin¬ 
nings,  and  shall  be  after  all  the  ends,  and  I  would  that  thou  and 


THE  SCHOOL 


295 


all  these  were,  as  in  such  matters,  even  as  I  (though  only  a  stranger) 
am.” 

But  the  henchman  said,  “A  certain  learned  man  hath  declared 
that  every  man  should  have  some  religion,  and  some  god  or  gods, 
but  that  it  mattereth  not  extremely  what  religion  or  what  gods  he 
hath,  but  only  that  he  should  feel  some  band  of  connection  or  relation 
with  some  higher  power.  He  was  a  very  learned  man.” 

And  the  Jew  (before  he  had  thought  of  the  origin  of  his  words) 
exclaimed,  “By  their  fruits  ye  shall  know  them!” 

The  henchman  said,  “Thou  shouldest  be  a  Stoic.  Get  ye  out  of 
my  way.” 

He  went  on  farther,  this  Simon  of  the  Curious  Heart,  coming, 
after  a  great  while,  unto  an  elevated,  vast  platform,  whereon  feasted 
Levitas  himself — black-mustachecl  and  yellow  and  lantern-cheeked, 
flat-chested  and  fever-eyed,  but  shrieking  insane  delights  in  all  that 
passed  around  him.  And  Simon  beheld  that  the  man  was  really 
young,  although  in  his  black  mustachios  were  evil  early  hairs  of 
white,  while  on  his  face  were  wrinkles  as  old  as  those  which  are  seen 
on  the  face  of  the  moon.  And  Levitas  had  with  him  up  there  bird¬ 
like  singing  girls,  and  wines  which  (as  some  of  the  henchmen  said 
to  Simon)  were  older  than  the  years,  and  daring  young  men  for  com¬ 
panions  in  revelry,  and  hundreds  of  scattered  perfumes,  and  hangings 
stained  with  strange  oriental  dyes,  and  feasting  and  fighting  and 
dancing  and  jollity  and  death — for  now  and  then  some  man  did 
kill  another. 

And  all  the  men  and  women,  as  they  danced  shamelessly  before 
Levitas,  sang  foolish  songs. 

And  when  they  had  sung  full  many,  then  asked  Simon  of  a  man 
that  was  near  and  seemed  half  sober,  but  who  had  been,  as  he  said, 
a  goose-herd,  and  whose  name  (now  that  Levitas  had  raised  him  to 
some  rank)  was  Lusor  (or  “sport-maker”)  Simon  asked  this  fellow 
who  the  men  or  women  were  that  had  made  these  songs. 

“The  most  of  the  songs  were  made,”  said  the  aforetime  goose- 
herd,  “by  Porneius  and  Porneia,  others  by  Frivolitas  and  Effemi- 
natus.  But  best  our  Lord  doth  like  the  songs  writ  by  Porneius  and 
Porneia.  The  songs  of  Effeminatus  and  Frivolitas  are  full  pleasant, 
but  they  go  not  deeply  enough — so  hath  said  our  Lord.  And  he 
saith  also,  ‘  It  is  art  that  I  want ;  what  hath  decency  to  do  with  art  ? 
Besides,  I  would  have  my  songs  be  true  to  life,  showing  all  its  various 
sides,  and  there  is  no  decent  side.  Morality  is  merely  a  lie  whereby 
the  truth  is  hidden;  let  us  therefore  not  abide  morality,  but  have 
art,  which  is  truth.’  ” 


296 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


“But,”  said  Simon,  “are  all  the  people  of  Gaul  of  the  same 
opinion  about  such  matters  V1 

“By  no  means,”  said  the  goose-herd,  “I  mind  me  of  the  time 
when  I  dwelt  in  a  village,  and  there  were  in  that  place  many  little 
tender  songs,  touching  and  sweet,  and  like  to  make  men  better.  But, 
truly,  the  people  who  know  about  such  things  have  said  that  all  those 
songs  are  no  true  art,  being  moral  and  therefore  incapable  of  being 
true.  There  is  nothing  true  (they  say)  that  is  not  immoral. — As 
for  me,  I  follow  the  judgment  of  my  Lord.  I  can  no  other.” 

Then  gat  the  Lord  up,  even  hollow-chested  Levitas,  and  himself 
did  sing  full  many  a  foolish  little  song,  and  tell  full  many  a  little 
foolish  tale,  in  both  of  which,  forever,  some  husband  was  a  donkey, 
and  the  seducer  of  his  wife  a  man  of  high  nobility  and  great  courage — 
till  some  one  cried,  “The  bear!  Caesar!  Let  us  have  the  play  with 
the  great  bear,  even  Caesar.” 

And  the  bear  was  brought,  and  placed  within  his  pit,  and  a  board 
with  a  hole  in  it  set  about  his  neck,  and  on  the  board  was  writ 
‘  ‘  Caesar.  ’  ’ 

And  Simon  beheld  that  the  bear  had  been  starved  nigh  unto  dis¬ 
traction.  Men  did  tease  and  worry  it  exceedingly  with  long,  strong 
poles  whereon  were  fastened  strips  of  bloody  meat,  and  ever,  as  the 
bear  did  bite  at  the  meat  or  seek  to  fasten  on  it  with  his  paws,  the 
men  jerked  suddenly  the  poles  away  and  the  meat  with  them. 

Some  one  cried,  “The  hot  honey!  Bring  the  hot  honey!” 

And  honey,  boiling  hot,  was  fetched  and  let  down  into  the  pit 
before  the  bear.  The  bear,  being  ravenous,  and  smelling  the  honey, 
ran  up  thereunto,  and,  ere  he  had  had  full  time  to  discover  that  the 
honey  was  boiling  hot,  gulped  him  down  the  most  of  it,  and  then 
ran  screaming  round  his  cage,  patting  his  stomach  with  his  insane 
paws. 

Said  Simon  unto  some  one, * 1  Surely  the  Gauls  are  loyal  to  Caesar.  ’  ’ 

But  the  man  did  shrug  his  shoulders,  and  pass  on. 

Then  went  some  man  down  into  the  pit  with  a  gleaming  sword, 
saying:  “Such  and  such  contempt  do  people  such  as  we  have  unto 
all  the  laws  of  this  world,  even  as  unto  those  of  that  which  is  yet 
to  come.” 

He  made  a  cunning  pass  or  two,  and  slew  the  bear. 

And  the  people  cried,  “So  be  it  unto  all  law  and  all  law-givers.” 

But  Simon  did  not  rejoice  at  such  contempt  to  Caesar  (albeit  he 
had  been  in  Caesar’s  mines).  So  he  asked  of  an  officer  that  was  com¬ 
ing  straight  toward  him  and  gazing  upon  him  steadily:  “When  do 
these  festivities  cease?” 


THE  SCHOOL 


297 


Said  the  officer,  1  ‘  Not  at  all.  Neither  day  nor  night,  not  yet  at  the 
end  of  a  year.  But  what  art  thou  to  ask  me  questions?  I  come  to 
apprehend  thee.” 

Whither  the  Jew  was  taken  or  how  far  the  distance,  he  endeavored 
not  at  all  to  guess.  For  he  said,  “I  am  wholly  at  the  mercy  of 
these.,, 

He  was  led  down  by  slow- winding,  many-gated  galleries  far  beneath 
the  castle  into  the  heart  of  the  mountain. 

And  was  thrust  into  a  stinking  pit,  being  loaded  with  chains,  and 
locked  securely  up  in  the  deep  darkness  of  the  pit. 

There  he  abode  for  many  days,  hearing  and  seeing  no  one,  save 
when  a  fat-fed  servitor  did  bring  him  water  or  food. 

On  a  long  distant  day  he  was  taken  before  a  subordinate  officer 
of  Levitas  for  trial.  And  at  that  time  the  charges  first  were  told 
to  Simon  by  a  Gaul  who  hight  Mandubrath.  This  name  meant  “Man 
of  Black  Treason, ”  and  its  wearer  was  he  that  had  killed  the  bear 
which  had  been  placarded  “Caesar.” 

The  indictment  being  read,  did  inform  the  Jew  that,  first  of  all, 
he  was  a  Jew  (a  fact  of  itself  liighly  culpable)  and  second,  that, 
having  secured  by  a  certain  residence  in  the  land,  a  knowledge  of 
the  fortifications  of  the  Castle  of  Levitas,  he  had  formed  the  intention 
of  divulging  such  knowledge  to  certain  foreign  powers,  as,  to  wit,  the 
British  and  the  Caledonians  and  others  of  the  regions  hyperborean. 

And  they  brought  forth  forged  documents,  with  the  ink  scarce 
dry  upon  them,  saying  that  Simon  of  Cyrene  had  writ  them. 

And,  further,  he  charged  (this  man  which  had  worried  the  bear 
they  called  “  Caesar  ”  and  which  had  cursed  all  law  both  of  this  world 
and  the  next)  that  Simon  of  Cyrene  was  no  true  observer  of  the  laws, 
and,  in  a  word,  was  a  traitor  to  Caesar. 

It  was  finally  charged  that  Simon  was  a  slanderer  of  all  the  gods, 
denying  especially  the  divinity  of  Caesar,  and  that  he  had  talked 
great  impiety  unto  the  retainers  of  Levitas. 

And  they  convicted  the  Jew  by  false  testimony,  and  would  have 
sent  him  to  the  Devil *s  Isle — a  place  like  unto  the  Mines  of  the 
Wretched,  but  that  the  Lord  raised  up  a  certain  friend  unto  the 
Jew,  which  fought  for  him  valiantly. 

CHAPTER  XXXV 
Krieg,  in  Germania 

In  truth  it  was  even  as  Skepticus  had  said  to  Simon  about  his 
two  children,  for  that  both  of  these  had  become  Christians.  At  the 


298 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


very  foot  of  the  cross,  they  had  joined  the  company  that  followed 
Jesns.  Yet  Simon’s  eyes  were  holden,  that  he  saw  them  not  there. 
And,  after  Christ’s  resurrection,  they  were  Christians  more  than 
ever.  But  Amahnah  remained  in  the  party  of  the  synagogue. 

Now,  after  a  time,  when  neither  Amahnah  nor  the  children  was 
able  to  learn  from  any  man  what  had  been  done  with  her  husband, 
then  she  and  they  took  counsel  together,  at  length  deciding  to  go  to 
the  heart  of  the  world,  if  necessary,  in  search  of  him. 

So  Amahnah  sold  the  properties  which  she  had,  and  sought  out 
Parush  and  said  unto  him:  “I  have  sold  the  properties  I  had,  and 
now  my  boys  and  I  would  go  in  search  of  my  husband.  They  indeed 
would  make  a  Christian  of  Simon,  but  I  would  keep  him  ever  as 
he  was — a  Jew.  Come  with  us,  therefore,  thou  and  thy  wife,  Thorah, 
and  guide  us  unto  Rome,  and  be  there  as  a  perpetual  counsellor 
(should  we  find  him)  unto  my  husband — as  well  as  unto  many  others 
of  the  Jews  which  be  in  Rome,  and  might,  without  thee,  in  time 
become  Christians.  I  have  moneys  and  will  recompense  thee.” 

So  it  was  agreed.  But,  at  sea,  a  storm  sprang  up,  and  Parush, 
being  a  headstrong  man,  took  away  the  rudder  from  the  helmsman’s 
hands,  with  this  result,  that  the  ship  was  shattered  in  pieces. 

And  the  children  of  Simon  came  together  and  safely  into  a 
certain  isle. 

And  Amahnah,  and  Parush  with  her,  and  his  wife,  Thorah — 
whose  name,  being  interpreted,  meaneth  “The  Law” — were  also 
saved,  but  upon  a  different  and  far  distant  island. 

And  the  belongings  of  Berith  were  all  in  the  sea.  Therefore  saith 
Parush  unto  her,  “My  spouse  and  I  fare  on  to  Rome  alone.  For 
thou  didst  say  thou  wouldst  recompense  me,  but  now  thou  art  no 
longer  able,  having  nothing.  Yea,  as  more  of  glory  can  be  had  by 
me  for  my  scholarship  in  Rome  than  in  J erusalem,  and  quite  as  much 
of  wealth,  I  go  not  back  to  Jerusalem,  but  on  to  Rome.  Yet,  as  for 
thee,  get  hence:  I  am  done  with  thee.” 

So  Amahnah,  after  many  grievous  wanderings  and  hazardous, 
was  brought,  on  a  day,  before  an  under  officer  of  Csesar,  in  an  obscure 
city,  and  there  condemned.  Even  as  Simon  himself  had  been  con¬ 
demned,  and  most  unjustly,  so  also  now  was  condemned  Amahnah, 
or  Leah. 

And  Amahnah  did  labor  in  the  Mines  not  far  from  her  husband, 
but  this  knew  he  not,  nor,  in  any  case,  would  have  been  able  to  come 
anigh  her.  But,  knowing  it  not,  he,  when  the  mountain  had  fallen 
apart,  and  he  had,  by  his  own  strivings,  attained  to  a  certain  escape, 
thought  not  at  all  to  look  about  for  her.  Even  so,  he  might  have 


THE  SCHOOL 


299 


heard  her  outcry,  but  that,  at  the  moment,  his  heart  was  full  of  a 
longing  for  the  beams  and  bars  of  gold  which  he  saw  at  no  great 
distance  in  the  smelting  sheds. 

Therefore  ran  he  straight  away  from  her,  and  would  have  heard 
her  not,  though  she  called  with  the  voice  of  an  archangel.  In  time 
he  vanished  utterly. 

But  she,  as  best  she  could,  followed,  crying:  “Unheard,  unheard, 
unheard !  ’  ’ 

Yet  did  she  never  quite  overtake  Simon.  And  she  passed  by  the 
side  of  the  country  where  the  seven  that  were  specially  sinful  dwelt, 
and  she  went  not  into  the  Castle  of  Levitas.  Yet,  at  a  certain  dis¬ 
tance,  and  as  well  as  she  could,  she  followed  her  spouse,  even  Simon 
of  Cyrene. 

For  many  long  years  followed  she  him. 

And  there  never  was  placed  on  her  brow  the  triliterate  phy¬ 
lactery  of  shame  which  had  been  set  upon  her  husband’s.  Yet,  too, 
as  she  journeyed,  she  was  more  and  more  shamefully  put  upon,  and 
at  length  was  apprehended  as  were  she  a  mere  runaway  slave  (this 
aforetime  happy  Child  of  God)  and  sold  to  a  great  beast  and  hypo¬ 
crite,  who  was  also  a  wildly  cruel  master. 

And  Nea  Diatheka,  too,  had  been  released  from  the  Mines  by  the 
landslide.  And  her  husband,  on  a  happy  day,  found  her,  and  dwelt 
with  her.  And  she  went  ever  with  him  on  his  wanderings,  and  was 
never  again  made  separate  and  away  from  him. 

....  For  many  long  weary  days  Simon  of  Cyrene  and  his 
Ethiopian  had  travelled  in  the  wilds  of  Germany.  ‘ 1  Take  ye  the  loads 
on  asses  till  that  ye  get  well  into  Germania  Barbara,”  the  Master  of 
the  Forges  in  Toletanum  had  said  unto  him.  “Then  take  ye  the 
packs  on  a  sledge ;  for,  as  ye  pass  twixt  the  marks  in  Germany,  seek¬ 
ing  to  reach  those  distant  places  where  the  steel  of  Toledo  is  not 
known,  and  where,  in  consequence,  ye  can  make  the  largest  profit, 
ye  will  find  that  the  roads  are  either  mud  or  snow,  and  wheels  will 
turn  not,  neither  will  asses  carry  or  thrive  there.” 

And  now  for  weary  days  the  Jew  and  his  servant  had  been  beyond 
the  Rhine,  marching,  marching,  over  the  barely  distinguishable  high¬ 
ways,  in  the  wide,  boggy,  treacherous  clearings  which  lay  betwixt 
the  marks  of  this  tribe  and  of  that.  Interminable  reaches  of  dim- 
veiling  rain,  or  of  marshy,  silent  landscape,  set  with  millions  of 
birdless  spruce  and  fir  trees,  and,  ever  brooding  above  the  whole 
(symbol  of  eternity)  the  dim,  inexorable,  motionless  sky!  Such  was 
the  way  to  the  land  of  the  Saxons,  the  place  where  Krieg  ruled,  and 


300 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


where  the  highest  price  in  gold  and  amber  could  be  demanded  for 
the  weapons  which  Simon  haled  upon  his  sledge. 

There  was  fog  just  now  all  round  about  Simon  and  his  servant, 
and  the  twain  picked  out  their  way  most  carefully  amid  the  patches 
of  bubbling  bog. 

After  a  time  the  wind  blew,  and  the  veil  of  thick  mist  began  to 
rend  asunder. 

All  at  once  a  great  wide  tear  ran  through  the  obstruction,  and, 
as  the  patches  of  fog  rolled  off  like  curtains,  the  travellers  beheld, 
at  a  distance,  two  vast  bodies  of  soldiers,  apparently  composed  of 
different  German  tribes,  rush  full  upon  each  other,  with  harsh, 
piercing  shrieks  and  dull  din  and  clangor  of  metal. 

The  wind  changed,  and  the  curtains  of  mist  rolled  back,  shutting 
the  insane  struggle  from  the  sight,  silencing,  too,  its  hideous  accom¬ 
paniment  of  incredible  noise. 

Then  the  two  travellers,  appalled,  began  to  fetch  a  circuit  far 
about  the  region  where  the  battle  was,  while  the  soul  of  the  Jew 
smote  him  sorely,  for  that  he  had  brought  hither  upon  his  sledge  the 
weapons  of  death. 

“ Didst  thou  also  see,  0  Weary  One?”  said  Simon  to  Cush,  the 
Ethiopian. 

“I  saw,  Master. — May  I  speak?” 

‘‘Speak,  Cush.” 

“War  is  all  these  people  think  on,”  said  Cush.  “That  is  what 
I  heard  both  in  Gallia  and  Spain.  Why  not  Caesar  make  them  stop 
their  wars — not  strong  to  do  it?” 

“Caesar  hath  here  no  power,  foolish  fellow.  We  are  farther  than 
his  swords  can  reach.  Over  and  over  he  hath  sent  his  strongest 
soldiers  hither,  but  they  have  either  not  come  back  at  all,  or  else  have 
returned  much  wiser.  And  Caesar  hath  made  his  compacts  with  them, 
the  which  they  ever  disregard.  For  here  there  be  many  Caesars, 
and  each  will  have  it  that  he  is  himself  a  Ruler  of  the  World.” 

“All  fierce  tribes?” 

“They  are  all  fierce  tribes  here,  and  each,  as  thou  dost  see,  hath 
for  its  protection  against  all  others,  its  own  set  territory  with  marks 
all  round  about  it.  And  in  between  these  marks  are  neutral  passages 
of  clearing  wherethrough  all  men  may  travel  (if  indeed  they  take 
their  chances  on  the  half -built  roads,  as  well  as  on  storms  and  beasts) 
yet  not  intrude  on  the  ground  of  any  tribe  at  all.” 

“Doth  Pum  rule  here?” 

“Who  is  Pum?” 


THE  SCHOOL 


301 


“Him  big  spirit.  Him  see  all  where.  Him  see  all  time.  Him 
make  brave  men  win  battle.  Him  no  mercy.” 

“Yes,  Cush,”  said  the  master,  “they  have  other  gods  here,  yes 
and  goddesses,  and  the  children  of  goddesses  and  gods.  Yet  I  believe 
that  Pum  (callest  thou  him  not  so?)  the  god  that  hath  no  mercy, 
reigneth  here  supreme.” 

“May  I  speak  again,  Master?” 

“Speak,  Cush.” 

“You  not  worship  Pum?” 

“No,  Cush,  I  do  not  worship  Pum.” 

“Who  you  worship?” 

“I  worship  Jehovah.” 

“Jehovah  big  god?” 

“A  very  big  God  indeed,  0  excellent  Cush.  A  God  of  justice, 
yet  of  mercy  also.  He  made  all  things  that  are,  and  all  the  other 
spirits  in  the  universe  are  subject  unto  Him,  Jehovah.  There  was 
never  a  beginning  of  the  days  of  this  God,  nor  shall  there  ever  be 
an  end  of  them.  But  all  the  other  gods  shall  perish.” 

“Jehovah  like  Jew  man  most?” 

“Jehovah  looketh  after  His  people  with  an  especial  care.  Hence, 
0  Despicatus,  it  was  that  I  did  find  thee,  as  thou  didst  wander  in 
Toletanum,  there  where  I  did  need  thee.  It  was  the  Lord’s  hand 
that  sent  thee  back  into  Spain,  whenafter  thou  didst  leave  me  in 
the  tavern  of  the  drunkards.” 

“Me  heard  Master  say  he  go  Toletanum  some  time.  Me  want 
meet  Master  again.” 

“Yea,  O  Cush,  but  the  Lord  it  was  that  made  thee  wish  to  behold 
again  thy  master.  For  behold,  I  could  hardly,  without  thee,  have 
brought  this  load  so  far  into  the  forest.  The  Lord,  as  thou  seest, 
hath  had  an  especial  care  over  me.” 

“Lord  not  let  Jew  man  suffer?” 

“The  Lord  hath  let  the  Jews  to  suffer,  0  Despicatus.  Yea,  He 
hath  given  them  innumerable  tribulations,  and  with  His  own  very 
hand.  But  ever  it  was  for  this,  that  He  would  school  them  and 
shape  them  to  His  liking,  that  they  might  subserve  His  purpose. 
So  it  was  prophesied,  even  in  olden  time.  And  never  He  leaveth 
His  Beloved  to  perish  utterly.  For  behold  He  hath  chosen  him  out 
from  all  the  other  nations,  and  will  have  him  as  His  priest.” 

“Me  must  worship  Him,  Jehovah?” 

“It  is  better,  0  Cush,  thou  shouldest  worship  Him.  Yet  if  thou 
failest  in  this  matter,  He  will  not  be  bitter  against  thee,  for  He 
knoweth  thou  canst  not  understand.” 


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“He  tell  Master  things  Master  have  to  do,  like  Master  tell  Cush?” 

“Just  the  same,  0  Cush.  And  there  are  very  many  books,  and 
very  many  teachings,  forms  and  ceremonies,  which  have  never  at  all 
been  written  into  books,  but  all  of  which  my  people  have  to  know 
and  to  live  by,  for,  upon  those  people  of  mine  there  rests  a  special 
responsibility  unto  Jehovah.  But,  as  for  thee,  0  Cush,  and  for  all 
the  nations  of  this  populous  earth,  saving  and  excepting  mine  own 
nation  alone,  it  is  solely  necessary  that  a  certain  seven  of  sacred 
commands  be  kept.” 

“What  commands,  Master?” 

“They  are  these,  0  excellent  servant.’ ’  And  the  Jew  then  set 
about  to  inform  the  Ethiopian  concerning  the  seven  Noachidian 
maxims :  how  that  it  was  very  wrong  to  steal  and  to  lie,  to  feast 
on  the  limbs  of  living  animals.  And  so  on.  And  when  he  had  finished 
the  whole  of  the  maxims,  he  practiced  his  servant  upon  them,  till 
most  of  them  could  be  remembered  by  that  man. 

Then  declared  Cush,  “Master’s  God  now  my  God.  I  keep  seven 
rules  also.  Then  Master’s  Jehovah  keep  me  too,  and  save  me  in 
Germania  Barbara?” 

“He  will  save  thee  and  keep  thee,  excellent  servant,  till  that  He 
calleth  thee  to  thy  fathers — and  afterward  also.” 

But  when  a  certain  time  had  passed,  and  when  the  Jew  fell  to 
reflecting,  he  was  wroth  against  himself  for  speaking  as  he  had  done 
to  Cush.  Said  he,  “What  manner  of  man  is  this  that  would  eat  at 
the  table  of  Abraham?  And  what  am  I  that  I  should  teach  him  at 
all  concerning  Jehovah?  Is  he  not  full  to  the  overflowing  with  the 
horrors  of  idolatry?  Can  he  understand  the  ways  of  God?” 

So,  when  the  negro  asked  again  concerning  the  religion  of  the 
Jew,  the  Master  cut  him  short  with  biting  words,  saying  after,  to 
himself:  “Now,  Christopherus,  belike,  would  answer  the  negro’s 
questions,  yea  and  encourage  the  fellow’s  curiosity  that  he  should 
ask  him  many  another.  For,  if  Cush  were  in  the  very  deep  of  Africa, 
thither  would  Christopherus  journey  that  he  might  speak  to  him 
concerning  Christ.  But  Christopherus  is  an  idolater,  I  a  son  of 
Abraham.  I  will  not  instruct  heathen.  But  let  Jesus  and  His  like 
instruct  them  as  concerning  the  idolatry  of  Jesus.”  Later,  when 
he  had  looked  upon  the  black  again,  and  had  seen  how  weary  his 
face  was,  he  felt  much  pity. 

Then  spake  Simon  to  him  about  many  interesting  things  which 
had  happened  in  the  wide  course  of  his  life — not  in  any  wise  as  con¬ 
cerning  Adonai  or  Jesus,  but  only  as  about  his  own  life  as  a  shepherd 
lad;  his  friendship  with  the  shining  Lampadephorus ;  his  slave-life 


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303 


in  the  belly  of  the  Babylonia  and  again  in  the  Mines  of  the  Wretched ; 
eke  of  his  trial  at  the  seat  of  Levitas,  and  of  how  Grammaticus,  that 
celebrated  writer  (he  and  his  friends),  merely  from  simple  love  of 
justice  to  all  men,  had  interceded  and  fought  manfully  for  him,  the 
J ew,  whence  had  come  his  liberation  even  after  he  had  been  condemned 
to  the  Devil’s  Isle.  And  then,  seeing  how  much  wearier  still  the 
Ethiopian  did  grow  from  his  work,  he  said  once  more:  “Cush.” 

“I  hear,  Master.” 

“Get  thee  behind  the  sledge  and  push,  0  Weary  One,  and  see 
that  the  heavy  burden  doth  not  fall. — So  is  it  not  easier  unto  thee?” 

“It  is  easier. — May  I  speak,  Master?” 

“Speak,  Cush.” 

“Master,  I  fear.” 

“Thou  fearest!  What,  0  excellent  servant?” 

“The  bog.” 

“And  why  dost  thou  fear  the  bog,  0  foolish  one?  It  is  covered 
with  beautiful  flowers.” 

“Because  of  the  green  scum  lying  on  it,  and  the  bubbles,  and  the 
dark  deep  spirits  which  send  the  bubbles  up.” 

“Cush,  thou  art  foolish.  There  are  no  spirits  underneath  the 
bog.  ’  ’ 

“Master —  May  I  speak?” 

“Speak,  Cush.” 

“Master,  I  fear  that  thou  wilt  not  go  safely.  See,  let  me  run 
before  and  try  the  way.  See  there,  Master,  the  road  is  lower  than 
the  bog.  How  know  which  bog?  And  see — I  throw  stone — yonder. 
It  sinks — all  bog.  And  see — I  throw  stone  out  yonder.  It  sinks.  All 
bog.  Now  see,  Master.  I  take  this  branch  from  fir  tree.  Throw  him 
out.  Sink  too,  sink  too.  Fir  tree  branch  should  float.  Dark  deep 
spirits  pull  him  down. 

“And  see!  0  Master! — big  thick  snake!  Come  get  Cush.  See, 
he  come  get  Cush.  That  snake  big,  deep,  dark  spirit.  0  Master, 
Master,  Master !  ’  ’ 

The  terrified  servant  ran  past  Simon,  and  away  from  the  serpent, 
which  ran  also,  on  its  course,  and  dipped  beneath  the  slimy  surface 
out  of  sight. 

But  Cush  was  also  in  the  bog. 

“I  sink,  Master.  Help,  help,  Master.  I  sink.  Come  quick: 
I  sink.” 

“Thou  art  safe  enough,  Cush.  Be  only  quiet.  Soon  will  I 
release  thee.” 


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He  went  and  cut  quickly  a  slender  fir-tree  and  laid  it  out  across 
the  boggy  surface.  Yet  would  it  nowise  reach  to  the  Ethiopian. 

Then  cried  the  latter,  “See,  0  Master,  the  deep  dark  spirit  pulleth 
me  down.  See!” 

Simon  went  forth  swiftly,  and  cut  him  another  sapling,  much 
longer  than  the  first.  But,  by  now,  the  Ethiopian’s  shoulders  were 
underneath  the  mire.  Only  the  head  remained.  “Will  thy  Lord 
help  me,  0  Master,  or  careth  He  for  slaves?” 

“He  careth  for  all  His  creatures.  Be  quiet,  0  Cush.  I  also  will 
help  thee.  Let  me  get  but  this — ” 

Then  the  slave  gave  a  wild  shout,  making  a  tremendous  struggling, 
which  only  sunk  him  deeper.  A  number  of  bubbles  shot  up  all 
round  about  his  face,  he  gave  once  more  a  great,  gurgling  lurch, 
threw  his  hands  up  quickly  beyond  his  head,  and  had  totally  vanished. 

Simon  of  Cyrene  looked  round  in  a  great  maze. 

He  also  listened  for  a  time,  as  if  he  really  expected  to  hear  some 
well  known  voice  again. 

But  never  a  sound  came  out  of  the  landscape,  nor  was  any  thing 
of  life  astir  within  it.  Over  the  whole  (dark  symbol  of  eternity) 
stretched  the  inscrutable,  inexorable,  impassive  sky. 

By  a  sudden  impulse,  the  Jew  cried  out:  “Cush!  Cush!  O 
Cush!” 

He  thought,  for  a  moment,  that  a  sudden  step  was  just  behind 
him.  He  turned,  then  believed  that  it  must  have  occurred  in  the 
opposite  direction.  So  he  turned  again. 

He  looked  at  the  sledge  and  the  great  gray-covered  burdens  on  it, 
as  if  some  sort  of  solution  might  be  expected  there. 

He  went  up  close  to  the  bog,  and  gazed  at  the  spot  where  the 
servant  had  gone  under.  No  sign  of  sound  or  motion. 

The  voice  of  the  Ethiopian,  so  full  of  humble  cheer  and  of  simple 
life,  still  sounded  in  the  astonished  chambers  of  his  brain,  and 
sounded  on  and  on  until  he  could  scarcely  distinguish  its  words  from 
absolute  reality. 

To  break  the  solitude,  he  placed  his  hands  straight  up  before  him 
like  a  brazen  trumpet,  and  shouted:  “Great  is  Jehovah,  and  who 
shall  understand  Him  ?  ’ 9 

The  strangely  muffled,  indifferent  echo  came  back  out  of  the  vague 
distance,  crying,  feebly:  “Who  shall  understand  Him?” 

“And  His  ways  are  ways  of  righteousness.” 

“Righteousness,”  said  the  echo,  yet  more  feebly. 

Then  the  Jew  turned  and  viewed  the  interminable  landscape,  with 


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305 


its  countless  spruces  and  firs,  its  infinity  of  dangers,  its  absolute, 
unguessed  horror  of  stone-like  silence  and  solitude. 

To  break  that  solitude  again,  he  placed  his  hands  up  to  his 
mouth,  and  cried  in  a  voice  of  agony:  1  ‘When  Jehovah  is  afar,  by 
whom  shall  we  then  be  saved  ?  ’  ’ 

“By  his  well-beloved  son,  even  Jesus,  the  Christ,’ ’  came  a  faint, 
almost  undiscernible  answer,  out  of  a  wooded  and  distant  hill. 

And  Simon  started  and  blanched.  He  said,  “It  is  now  again  that 
I  hear  in  the  world  of  outwardness  a  voice  that  is  in  mine  own 
soul  only.” 

He  cast  the  thongs  of  the  sledge  quickly  about  his  neck  and 
shoulders,  and  went  on  deeper  and  deeper  into  the  dangers  and  the 
silence  of  the  forest.  From  time  to  time  he  thought  he  heard  voices 
calling  him,  but  he  looked  not  back. 

Once,  as  he  journeyed,  solitary  and  sore  afeard,  there  grew  up 
in  his  heart,  because  of  those  endless  wilds  of  bog  and  forest  and 
everlasting  canopy  of  motionless  gray  sky,  such  a  soul-disturbing 
mood  that  all  the  things  about  him  began  to  play  upon  his  overactive 
imagination,  as  it  were  on  a  high-strung  harp.  He  began  to  believe 
that  the  forest  behind  him  was  full  of  cries  from  Cush,  who  (as  he 
thought)  had  not  really  sunken  in  the  bog  at  all,  but  was  shouting: 
“Master,  Master!  Wait  till  I  catch  up  with  thee.  0  Master! 
Master !  ’  ’ 

At  last,  so  fearful  did  the  strange  pleadings  become,  that,  only 
to  solace  the  silent  but  overwhelming  outcries  of  his  fantasy,  he 
turned  about,  and  fared  backward — backward  two  whole  days  and 
nearly  a  third,  in  the  midst  of  a  blinding  snow  storm,  until  he  had 
come  to  the  place  where  his  servant  had  gone  under. 

There  was  the  trimmed  sapling  which  he  himself  had  laid  upon 
the  surface  of  the  bog.  It  was  still  undisturbed,  though  covered  with 
snow.  There  was  the  calm  face  of  the  unmoved  marsh,  there  were 
the  fir-trees — endless  rows  of  silent  witnesses  that  all  was  even  as 
erst  it  had  been,  saving  only  for  the  snow.  There,  too,  was  the  gray 
and  gloomy  heaven  arching  over  the  whole  landscape — unperturbed, 
unquestioning,  unanswering.  “Would  that,  0  Jehovah,  thou  mightest 
have  come  forth  out  of  thy  remoteness  that  the  life  of  the  servant 
of  thy  servant,  even  Cush,  could  have  been  spared  for  thee  and 
for  me.” 

He  turned  onward  to  his  task  once  more,  lonely  and  weary  of 
heart,  and  gently  wondering  from  time  to  time  what  purpose  there 

was  in  his  whole  life — or  if  there  was  any.  Then  he  would 

20 


306 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


console  himself  with  the  profit  he  would  make  from  this  expedition, 
and  how  he  then  might  go  to  better  places  than  the  wilderness. 

And,  on  a  day,  as  he  pulled  wearily  at  the  thongs  of  his  backward¬ 
holding  sledge,  he  slipped  and  fell  into  the  bog.  And  the  sledge  went 
not  in  after  him. 

At  first  it  appeared  that  the  bog  was  shallow  in  the  part  wherein 
he  had  floundered,  but  yet,  as  he  endeavored  to  extricate  himself 
and  get  to  a  certain  island  of  dry  land,  he  found  that  his  feet  were 
sinking  deeper  and  deeper  in.  And  at  length  the  mire  had  grown 
so  profound  that  even  his  arms  and  shoulders  were  covered  by  it, 
and  the  more  he  attempted  by  his  own  mere  strength  to  get  up,  the 
deeper  he  sank  on  downward. 

Nor  could  he  turn  about  without  settling  his  feet  more  deeply. 

So  he  stood  as  still  as  possible,  crying  in  spirit:  “Lord  God  of 
Abraham !  At  last  I  am  lost.  Thou  wast  indeed  to  shape  me :  to 
hew  me  and  to  carve  me  and  to  get  me  to  thy  liking.  Yet  lettest 
thou  the  heathen  triumph  over  thy  servant,  and  the  great  bog  to 
swallow  up  his  bones. 

“Yea,  even  as  Despicatus  did  sink  within  the  mud,  so  sink  I  in 
the  mire.  And  thou  carest  not. 

“None  will  wish  at  all  to  find  me — only  mine  enemies — for  they 
are  these  that  are  round  about,  I  know.  They  will  laugh  when  they 
see  me,  and  will  hold  me  in  derision.  They  will  hew  me  into  pieces, 
and  will  make  them  little  playthings  of  my  ribs.” 

Then  the  sky  grew  darker  and  a  curtain  half  of  snow  and  half 
of  rain  began  to  sift  down  through  the  trees.  And  a  great,  fat, 
venomous  serpent,  with  uplifted  head  and  brightly  curious,  beady 
and  impenitent  eyes,  came  hissing  and  bending  and  slipping,  nearer 
and  nearer  unto  him,  across  the  rising  surfaces  of  the  bog. 

But  all  of  a  sudden,  he  found  that  he  sank  not  in  the  way  that 
Cush  had  sunken,  but  that  his  feet  came  firm  against  a  stone.  And 
he  caught  the  serpent  in  his  hands,  and  slew  it,  and  slung  it  afar, 
crying:  “Zur  Yisrael!”  (Rock  of  Israel). 

And  he  found  that  he  could  walk  along  in  the  bog  with  his  feet 
upon  the  rock.  So  he  came  at  last  to  dry  land,  where  he  fell  on 
his  knees  and  cried:  “Thou  hast  not  chosen  thy  priest  in  vain,  0 
Adonai.  Not  in  vain,  not  in  vain.  For  behold,  there  was  no  man 
by  to  succor  me  (as  I  would  have  succored  Despicatus)  and  yet  I 
live — not  in  vain,  not  in  vain  !  ’  ’ 

And  the  woodland  gave  him  back  an  echo,  “Not  in  vain!”  And 
he  took  it  for  an  excellent  omen,  and  said:  “Though  I  understand 
thee  not,  Adonai,  I  will  know  that  thou  art  ever  with  me,  and  I  will 


THE  SCHOOL 


307 


always  keep  on.”  And  he  went  about,  and  took  up  the  thongs  of 
the  sledge  again. 

And  when  many  days  had  been  fulfilled,  he  began  to  observe, 
on  either  hand,  but  yet  at  a  considerable  distance  from  the  neutral 
territory  through  which  he  journeyed,  sparse  collections  of  conical 
red  huts,  like  tiny,  widely  separated,  blood-red  mushrooms.  Round 
each  hut  was  a  field,  in  which  played  multitudes  of  children,  thrusting 
their  tiny  swords  this  way  and  that,  or  casting  little  spears. 

Once,  just  a  short  way  ahead  of  him,  a  wild  boar  plunged  across 
open  country,  with  dozens  of  naked  warriors  rushing  and  shrieking 
behind.  No  one  paid  the  slightest  attention  to  the  Jew. 

After  a  time  the  way  got  lonelier  than  ever  it  had  been  before. 
Never  a  sound  of  man,  or  sight  of  human  habitation.  The  wind 
played  dirges  in  the  great  trees,  and  again  the  heart  of  the  Jew 
was  heavy. 

There  began  a  drifting  snow.  The  cold  became  greater  and  greater. 
So  the  weary  one  searched  out  a  place  where  spruce  and  fir  were 
thickest.  Here,  as  in  a  tiny  room,  all  dark,  he  waited  the  cessation 
of  the  storm.  Having  eaten,  he  fell  asleep. 

And,  as  he  slept,  he  dreamed  that  Skepticus,  the  sordid  messenger 
who  had  come  to  him  in  Gaul,  stepped  into  his  chamber  of  darkness, 
and,  standing  before  him,  said:  “See,  0  Jew!  The  unmeaning  storm 
is  all  a-rage  without.  Is  not  this  like  life — a  storm,  a  tempest,  a 
whirling,  a  senseless  struggling  of  the  elements,  without  design, 
without  purpose  in  the  to  and  fro  of  atoms?  The  flakes  know  noth¬ 
ing,  and  the  winds  that  fling  them  crazily  about — what  also  do  they 
know?  So,  0  Jew,  are  the  seconds  of  thy  life,  and  all  the  forces 
that  do  rend  thee.” 

Said  the  Jew,  “Yet  my  feet — they  found  a  rock.” 

But  Skepticus  answered  and  said,  “It  was  accident.  Some  acci¬ 
dents  are  good  to  us,  some  bad.” 

But  when,  toward  morning,  the  Jew  looked  forth  on  the  land¬ 
scape,  there  in  the  sky-clear  moonshine,  his  two  eyes,  wondering, 
beheld  the  softly  waving  drifts  of  endless  beauty,  ridged  and  fluted 
and  polished  as  never  a  Greek  had  done  to  costliest  of  stone.  Beauty 
unutterable !  Silence !  Perfection !  And  then,  as  he  looked  still 
closer  with  eyes  that  had  learned  to  seek  out  evil  signs  and  coming 
misfortunes,  he  beheld,  all  round,  yet  at  some  distance,  the  tracks  of 
multitudes  of  wolves.  But  never  a  beast  had  come  anigh  the  accessible 
place  wherein  he  had  so  carelessly  slept.  Then,  as  he  passed,  having 
eaten,  with  his  heavy  load  steep  up  the  snowy  slope,  struggling  still 
toward  the  sun’s  rising  and  the  land  of  the  Saxons,  the  night-made 


308 


SIMON  OF  GYRENE 


tracks  grew  thicker,  and  a  sound  smote  him  like  a  knife — the  shrill, 
prolonged,  and  immensely  sickening  outcry  of  a  lonesome  wolf. 

Just  at  this  moment,  the  beast  himself  appeared,  rushing  straight 
down  toward  Simon  from  the  hill-top — a  great,  white,  gangling  thing, 
all  ribs,  bright  eyes,  sliagginess  and  hunger. 

Now  Simon  would  have  drawn  his  sword,  but  that  the  beast,  after 
a  moment’s  gaze  upon  him,  turned  and  ambled  quickly  in  another 
direction,  while,  from  over  the  self-same  hill-top  whence  the  wolf  had 
come,  appeared  two  men.  The  foremost  was  a  tall,  gaunt  figure,  in 
white  from  neck  to  feet,  so  that,  at  the  first,  he  scarce  stood  out 
from  the  snow-field.  On  his  head  was  a  high  hat,  round  his  neck 
a  gold  chain.  The  look  of  the  man  was  crafty  and  treacherous. 
Behind  him,  at  a  very  respectful  distance,  came  a  low,  dark,  hump¬ 
backed  fellow,  clad  in  black  furs,  hatless  and  with  flowing  locks.  In 
his  hands  were  a  hammer  and  a  small  anvil.  The  two  glanced  up 
and  saw  the  Jew,  stood  at  gaze  for  a  moment,  then  ran  back  before 

he  could  call  out  “Hael!” 

► 

He  toiled  on  up  the  hill  and,  just  as  he  reached  the  top,  paused 
in  his  tracks,  for  his  eyes  were  resting  not  upon  a  humpbacked  smith 
and  a  priest  of  Woden,  for  these  had  vanished  utterly,  but  on  a 
sight  that  turned  his  heart  to  stone. 

Before  him  towered  a  man — if  man  indeed  he  were — fierce,  gigan¬ 
tic,  and  detestable.  Clad  in  garments  of  blood  red,  he  stood,  or, 
rather,  mountained,  with  arms  folded,  speaking  not,  stirring  not, 
only  glaring  with  cold  blue  eyes,  filled  to  the  full  with  senseless 
pride  and  ineradicable  hate. 

“Thy  name?”  demanded  the  Jew. 

“What  doest  thou  here,”  inquired  a  voice  like  the  hissing  of 
Ophidion  and  the  sound  of  a  Roman  trumpet  combined. 

“I  seek  a  certain  warrior,  hight  Krieg.  King  he  is  of  all  the 
Saxons.  ’  ’ 

“I  am  Krieg,”1  said  the  mighty  one.  “My  name  meaneth  War. 
Thy  name,  thy  business?” 

“I  am  Simon  of  Cyrene,  a  Jew  of  the  great  family  of  Aaron. 
Coming  from  afar,  I  bring  thee  benefits.” 

“Thou  art  a  king,”  said  Krieg.  “Thou  hast  the  size  and  strength. 
Draw,  then,  and  fight  with  me,  or  I  do  swear  I  will  kill  thee  on  the 
spot  whereon  thou  standest.  ” 

“Kill  me  not,”  said  Simon,  “for  I  come  as  a  friend  and  guest, 
and  have  some  special  business  wherein  thy  heart  will  delight — if 
only  thou  be  not  overhasty  and  spoil  all  things.” 

1  For  obvious  reasons,  allegoric  as  well  as  onomatopoeic,  I  have  given  to  the 
old  chief  the  modern  name,  “Krieg,”  instead  of  the  Old  Saxon,  “WIG.” 


THE  SCHOOL 


309 


“What  dost  thou  bring  me — aught  wherewith  we  shall  fight?” 

“Wherewith  thou  mayest  fight,  0  mighty  Krieg. ” 

1  ‘  Swords  ?  ’ ’ 

“Javelins — the  points  thereof.  And,  puissant  Krieg,  the  like  of 
these  points  thine  eyes  have  never  ere  now  beheld.” 

The  King  laughed  scornfully.  “A  merchant!  I  took  thee  for 
a  king.  Thou  art  a  mere  bagman  going  about  to  sell  things!  A 
merchant !  ’  ’ 

“Both  a  merchant  and  a  priest,  which  is  to  say  a  king,  0  Krieg, 
for  see!  with  us,  a  man  may  be  both  priest  and  merchant  and  king. 
But,  about  the  business.  If  thou  disdainest  not  to  see  these  points — ” 

The  King’s  eyes  glittered.  “I  can  take  thy  points  away  from 
thee,  also  bury  thee  in  the  snow.  Come !  The  day  dawneth !  Draw ! 
I  would  not  kill  thee  while  thou  art  defenseless.” 

Then  said  Simon,  quietly,  for  he  understood  his  man :  “I  will 
fight  with  thee  presently,  and  then  I  will  show  thee  the  way  in  which 
I  shall  fight.  Meantime,  I  have  brought  thee,  0  Krieg,  upon  these 
long,  stout  runners,  the  points  of  a  thousand  javelins.  If  they  be 
not  better  than  any  thou  hast  seen  before,  if  they  be  not  unturnable 
by  man  or  beast  or  hardest  tree,  then  purchase  not.  And  I  will 
forthwith  fight  thee,  and  go  on  unto  some  other  tribe.  Or  if,  though 
the  points  shall  prove  of  the  finest,  thou  dost  not  care  at  all  to  buy 
them,  then  also  do  not  purchase.  And  I  will  forthwith  fight  thee, 
and  then  leave  thee,  and  go  to  some  other  tribe.  The  Hermanduri, 
the  Angrivarii — ” 

“Fight!”  snarled  the  King.  “First  fight.  Then  talk  we  of 
javelins  and  gold.  Fight!  Draw!  Fight!”  And  he  drew  his  short 
Saxon  blade. 

But  Simon  of  Cyrene  disarmed  him,  as  Lampadephorus  had  taught 

/ 

him  how  to  do,  and  he  grasped  the  giant,  even  Krieg  the  King  of 
the  Saxons,  by  his  very  middle,  and  cast  him,  and  then  took  him 
up  and  hurled  him  headlong,  saying  in  his  spirit:  “There  is  not 
any  way  to  get  this  man  to  like  me  whatsoever,  but  by  giving  him 
ill  use.” 

And  the  King  ran  up  again,  and  gave  a  great  shout,  and  behold, 
from  the  woods  came  running  multitudes  of  warriors,  all  crying: 
‘  ‘  Contest !  Slaughter !  Blood !  ’  ’ 

Then  saw  Simon  of  Cyrene  that  it  was  well  he  had  drawn  no 
sword  upon  the  King,  for  that  so  he  should  have  perished  miserably, 
whether  he  might  have  fallen  beneath  the  King’s  blows  or  have  pre¬ 
vailed  over  him. 

And  the  Jew  beheld  among  the  foremost  of  the  crowd  the  white- 


310 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


robed  priest  lie  had  seen  but  a  moment  before,  and,  behind,  the  smith 
with  his  anvil.  Nearby  was  a  beautiful  woman,  with  hair  like  the  sun 
arising,  and  eyes  like  clear  blue  stones.  She-  stood  at  the  side  of 
a  dozen  men  who  were  plainly  her  brothers — and  all,  he  could  see, 
were  like  the  great  King,  Krieg.  So  he  knew  them  for  Krieg’s 
children. 

The  King  said  to  them  all,  “Peace!”  Ye  see  that  Drugi-thing, 
priest  of  the  All-father,  hath  told  us  truly  of  the  dark-haired  enemy 
about  to  arrive.  Now  saith  the  dark-haired  man  that  he  bringeth 
unto  us  javelin  points,  the  which  he  would  sell  to  us  (being  merely 
merchant)  for  amber  and  gold  rings.  And  he  sweareth  the  points 
are  harder  and  sharper  than  any  which  we,  the  Saxons,  have  seen 
in  all  our  battles.  Is  it  not  so,  Simon  of  Cyrene?” 

The  Jew  confirmed  him. 

“Bring,  then,”  said  the  King,  “a  pole  to  be  for  a  javelin.” 

The  Jew  took  the  pole,  and  straightway  fastened  into  it  a  point, 
and  bound  the  point  tightly  upon  it. 

Then  said  to  him  the  Cuning,  or  King:  “I  will  contend  against 
thee  in  the  throwing.  Seest  thou  yon  oak  that  groweth  on  the  second 
hill  which  far  o’ertoppeth  the  nearer  ?  Into  that  we  will  both  throw — 
thou  with  thy  wonderful  javelin,  I  with  mine — and  then  we  shall  see 
whose  point  is  turned  the  less.” 

“What!”  cried  the  Jew,  “meanest  thou  only  the  tree  upon  the 
second  hill?  But  behold!  beyond  that  second  standeth  a  third,  far 
higher,  and  on  that  eminence  a  mere  little  sapling.  On  the  summit 
of  the  hill  it  ariseth,  seeming  to  hold  toward  heaven  two  tiny  hands, 
as  if  in  supplication.  At  that  sapling  let  us  throw.” 

The  chief  laughed  him  to  great  scorn.  ‘  ‘  The  gods  have  maddened 
thee.  Liveth  there  any  man  at  all  that  can  throw  so  far  as  even 
to  the  lowermost  portion  of  that  hill?” 

Answered  Simon  of  Cyrene,  “See!” 

So  he  cast.  And  the  javelin  flew,  and  the  tree  was  cloven. 

Then  for  a  time  the  multitude  stood  silent,  as  a  great  new  star 
had  come  into  the  heavens,  amazing  them.  And  old  Krieg  stood 
voiceless  also,  yet  the  Jew  perceived  that  he  looked  upon  him  with 
a  softer  eye. 

Then  was  there  brought  back  unto  the  chief  by  a  runner,  the 
javelin,  and  the  chief  took  it  and  looked  upon  it  long  and  with  love, 
for  behold !  the  point  thereof  was  neither  broken  nor  in  anywise 
turned. 

So  the  chief  shouted  to  his  assembled  warriors,  “Hael,  freemen! 
We  will  take  these  javelin  points!”  He  began  to  ask  of  the  Jew 


THE  SCHOOL 


311 


concerning  his  price.  But  at  this  there  issued  from  the  assembly 
the  great  white  priest  and  the  fur-clad  humpback,  they  whom  the 
Jew  had  met  behind  the  white  wolf.  Said  these  unto  the  King,  in 
a  low  voice:  “It  is  not  lawful  thus  to  buy,  but  only  in  assembled 
council,  the  Moot  of  all  freemen,  upon  the  moot-plain,  near  the  hill 
and  tree  of  Thor.  Let  us  therefore  go  thither.  And  let  all  free  men 
of  the  Saxons  be  summoned  to  the  hill  by  the  hornsmen,  and  so  we 
will  reason  about  these  matters,  Whether  it  be  truly  profitable  to 
buy,  and  whether  it  be  not  profitable,  and  who  this  Simon  of  Cyrene 
is,  and  as  toucheth  many  other  matters.  ” 

Then  the  Cuning,  or  King,  even  Krieg,  said  to  the  Jew:  “It  is 
law.  I  must  abide  by  it.  Follow  me.” 

And  he,  with  some  of  his  followers,  took  the  Jew  apart,  and  led 
him  a  little  way  into  the  forest,  and  there,  at  the  top  of  the  hill,  in 
a  place  where  the  snow  had  been  scraped  away,  Krieg  stamped  on 
the  ground.  And  behold,  a  great  lid  rolled  forth  from  an  opening 
in  the  ground,  and  a  swollen  face  appeared,  all  dirty  and  with  yellow 
hair  round  it,  saying:  “What  is  to  do?  What  is  to  do?  Pardon! 
The  Cuning!  Hael  unto  thee,  Krieg,  our  puissant  Cuning.’ ’ 

“Freeman,”  said  the  King,  “I  make  thee  responsible  for  this, 
my  guest.  See  thou  after  him  until  the  Moot  of  free  men  is  held, 
and  we  have  decided  what  further  shall  be  done  as  concerning  him. 
Then  will  we  send  and  summon  him.  And  thou  mayest  then  come 
after  him  unto  the  Moot.” 

But  the  Jew,  at  that,  would  nowise  suffer  the  King  to  go  at  once, 
but  laid  hands  upon  him  firmly,  and  demanded :  “0  powerful  Krieg, 
before  I  release  thee  from  my  grasp,  here  where  I  have  thee  firmly, 
where  thou  and  I  are  equal,  merely  man  unto  man  (for  thy  few 
followers  here  I  account  as  nothing),  give  me  thy  carefullest  promise, 
and  vow  unto  me  by  whatsoever  thou  holdest  to  be  most  sacred — 
Woden,  the  great  Allfather  and  the  King  of  War — swear  by  that 
god  of  thine  that,  should  I  leave  this  place  when  thy  messenger  cometh 
for  me,  and  should  go  with  him  unto  the  moot-plain,  that  then  no 
harm  shall  come  to  me,  but  that  I  shall  be  as  a  guest,  and  that  thou 
wilt  well  entreat  me,  and,  if  the  freemen  find  that  they  want  my 
javelin-points,  that  then  thou  wilt  give  me  for  these  a  hundred  rings 
of  gold  and  twice  that  weight  of  amber.  Also  promise  that  when¬ 
soever  it  may  please  me,  I  may  leave  thee  and  go  back  into  Gallia 
or  Spain,  or  whithersoever  I  wish  and  on  whatsoever  business,  whether 
it  be  to  bring  more  of  the  javelin-points  (and,  it  may  be,  better  ones) 
or  on  any  other  business  I  may  choose.” 


312 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


The  King  looked  up  and  smiled  upon  him,  and  he  said,  without 
faltering:  “I  swear  it.  Thou  shalt  be  free  to  go.” 

So  the  Jew  suffered  him  and  his  followers  to  depart  for  the 
moot-plain,  and  took  fresh  courage,  for  he  had  seen  that  the  King 
delighted  in  the  weapons  he  had  brought  and  would  still  want  others 
like  them. 

Now  the  freeman  which  was  the  owner  of  the  house,  went  down 
first  thereinto.  And  the  Jew  descended  also  into  the  dark  opening, 
where  his  feet  got  hold  of  a  safe  ladder.  And  so  he  continued  to 
descend  till  he  found  himself  in  the  center  of  a  capacious,  if  badly 
lighted,  room. 

“Hael  and  welcome,”  said  the  freeman,  “if  that  thou  knowest 
a  better  way  to  do  anything.  I  am  called  ‘ Craft.’  Some  say  it  is 
because  I  am  strong,  some  because  I  am  skilful.” 

“Hael  to  thee,  Craft,”  replied  the  Jew.  “I  am  Simon  of  Cyrene, 
priest  and  merchant.” 

4 ‘For  that  I  care  not,”  cried  Craft  bluntly.  “But  for  this  I 
care — whether  or  not  thou  knowest  better  ways  of  doing  things. 
See!  I  study  each  day,  and  on  every  day,  that  I  may  find  better 
ways  whereby  anything  at  all  may  be  accomplished. — I  am  not  a 
fighter.  ’ ’ 

The  Jew’s  heart  grew  warm  indeed,  for  that,  in  this  underground 
habitation,  he  had  found  such  a  man.  “What  makest  thou  yonder, 
excellent  Craft?” 

Cried  the  man,  “A  heat-place,  eke  a  smoke-guide.  Knowest  thou 
why  Saxons,  at  the  winter’s  approach,  leave  the  little  round  huts, 
and  why  they  come  down  into  places  like  this?  It  is  for  that  the 
cold  would  freeze  them  if  they  staid  above.  So  they  come  down  into 
the  earth,  bringing  with  them  the  kine,  the  kinder,  and  the  horses.” 

Now  Simon  looked  about,  and  soon,  in  the  clearing  dark,  beheld 
long  rows  of  cattle,  and,  beyond,  a  solitary  horse. 

“Live  ye  all  together  and  so?”  asked  Simon. 

“So  and  all  together,”  responded  Craft.  “It  is  custom.  There 
is  greater  brightness,  all  the  same,  above,  and  more,  much  more,  is 
to  be  seen  there.  So  I  build  me  a  heat-place,  eke  a  smoke-guide.  In 
the  Seli  of  the  Cuning,  up  in  the  brightness,  at  the  middle  of  each 
room,  is  a  stone.  Thou  shalt  see.  On  the  stone,  of  a  winter,  there 
is  started  a  fire.  Yet  it  is,  even  so,  not  altogether  pleasant  in  the 
Seli  of  the  Cuning.  For  the  smoke,  it  will  sometimes  out  through 
the  hole  in  the  roof  that  is  made  for  it,  and  sometimes  it  wandereth 
about  the  room.  So  it  worketh  into  the  eyes,  and  blackeneth  the 
golden  faces  of  the  women,  and  maketh  all  peoples  to  cough  loudly. 


THE  SCHOOL 


313 


In  the  little  red  huts  of  the  freemen  and  the  smaller  red  huts  of  the 
cheorls,  there  is  not  even  a  stone  for  fire.  Also,  the  thatch  would 
catch  therefrom  and  the  whole  house  burn,  if  a  fire  there  was. 

“So  I  make  me  a  box  for  the  fire  in  the  center  of  the  room,  also 
a  guide  for  the  smoke.  I  will  later  do  the  same  thing  in  the  little 
round  house  in  the  sunlight.  And  the  little  round  house  will  not 
take  fire.  Yet  it  will  be  warm. 

“Behold!  have  I  not  built  well,  with  sticks  and  mud  only? 

“And  see!  there  is  fire  within  the  mud-box  now,  and  out  of  the 
box  goeth  the  smoke  up  the  straight  guide,  and  it  filleth  not  the 
room. 

“I  shall  one  day  build  me  a  bigger  reed-hut,  yonder  in  the  outer 
light,  and,  in  it,  a  mud-box  with  a  smoke-guide.  ’  ’ 

Now  Simon  could  have  kissed  this  muddy  fellow,  for  that  his 
thoughts  were  not  in  any  wise  about  war,  but  only  the  betterment  and 
comfort  of  mankind.  “Thou  art  not  like  a  many  others  here.  They 
indeed  love  solely  to  kill,  but  thou  not.’ ’ 

“And  why  not  love  to  kill?”  asked  Craft,  lifting  childlike  shaggy 
brows.  “Are  not  we  better  than  the  Hermanduri  and  the  Semnones 
and  all  these  other  tribes  which  be  about?  Why  ought  we  not  to 
kill  them?  That  is  what  they  are  for,  is  it  not  so? — to  be  killed 
by  us.” 

1  ‘  Could  ye  not  all  live  together  even  like  brothers  ?  ’  ’  asked  Simon. 

“By  the  spear  of  Woden!  Do  not  even  brothers  fight  each  other? 
What  for  brothers?  Brothers  should  see  each  other’s  blood,  if  they 
like  it  so  well.  And  the  Hermanduri  and  Semnones — they  are  only 
to  be  slaughtered.  Said  not  Woden,  the  Allfather,  unto  our  Cuning 
and  Eorl,  even  Krieg,  said  he  not  unto  him,  ‘  Go  after  the  Hermanduri 
and  the  Semnones,  as  after  the  wild-boars  of  the  forest?  For  thee 
were  they  made,  and  for  thy  glory  and  thy  goriness.  Behold!  it  is 
I  who  said  to  thee,  “Rule.”  And  now  it  is  I  again  who  say  to  thee, 
“Kill!”  Else  hast  thou  glory  in  anything?’ 

“And  we  freemen,  what  be  we?  Were  we  not  indeed  made  for 
the  Eorl,  even  Krieg,  to  get  him  power,  and  to  get  him  honor,  and 
to  get  him  glory?  Was  it  not  for  just  such  things  that  we,  the  free¬ 
men,  were  made,  and  the  cheorls  even  much  more  so?” 

And  the  freeman  would  have  related  to  the  Jew  the  myths  of  the 
gods  of  the  Germans — those  great  heavenly  fighters.  But  the  Jew 
prevented  him.  “All  these  things  have  I  heard  in  Gallia,  and  they 
like  me  not  a  little.  I  had  rather,  much  rather,  O  mighty  Craft, 
be  instructed  by  thee  in  the  ways  whereby  to  build  the  mud-box  for 
the  red  fire  and  the  way-out  for  the  black  smoke.” 


314 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


But  Craft,  the  freeman,  would  not  speak  of  these  things  again, 
but  said  to  the  Jew  full  many  a  long  story  about  the  German  gods, 
also  battles  from  Hellia  even  unto  Asgard  and  from  Asgard  back 
to  Hellia.  And  he  said  unto  Simon  that  the  Gauls  were  all  liars, 
for  they  told  the  old  tales  about  the  German’s  gods  in  such  fashion 
as  to  make  seem  that  the  Germans  were  a  bloody  people.  But  the 
Jew  perceived  very  clearly  that  the  stories  were  bloodier  by  far  as 
Craft  told  them  than  ever  he  had  heard  them  in  Gallia,  Aquitania, 
Hispania,  or  any  other  part  whatsoever.  So,  that  the  man  might 
speak  concerning  other  matters,  the  Jew  inquired:  “Why  paint  ye 
all  your  houses  of  a  red  hue  ?  ’  ’ 

*  ‘  ’Tis  the  color  of  blood,  ’  ’  answered  Craft,  ‘  ‘  and  there  is  no  other 
color  like  unto  it  for  beauty.” 

Then  remembered  the  Jew  that  he  was  faint  for  hunger,  and  he 
quoth  as  much,  and  Craft  called  out  to  the  wif  as  she  sat  in  her 
place  among  the  kine,  and  she  set  out  cheeses  on  a  board  and  flesh 
both  of  deer  and  horses  and  wolves.  But,  for  the  milk,  the  wif  said 
to  the  Jew:  “Go  to  the  cow  and  milk  her  into  thine  own  mouth.” 
But  the  father  of  the  house  stepped  suddenly  apart.  Opening  the 
cattle  door  which  stood  in  the  side  wall  of  the  hill,  he  shouted  like  a 
trumpet  of  brass:  “It  is  to  eat.  0  ye  children  of  Craft,  come 
quickly.  ’  ’ 

Swifter  than  light  came  darting  through  the  cattle-door,  first  one 
then  another  of  the  children  of  Craft — tall  and  straight  and  sunny- 
headed,  and  wholly  unafraid  of  anything  at  all.  The  next  to  the 
oldest  came  in  last,  for  he  held  by  the  throat  a  full-grown  wolf.  “I 
killed  him  without  sword-point  or  javelin  or  club,”  said  he  to  the 
father. 

“Thou!”  cried  the  father  angrily,  “thou  wilt  get  thine  eyes 
scratched  if  thou  use  not  weapons  on  a  wolf.”  He  struck  the  child 
(whose  name,  as  he  said  to  Simon,  was  Woodcraft)  a  resounding 
whack  on  his  head. 

“Anger  not  me,”  said  the  son,  who  did  not  even  touch  the  stricken 
spot,  “for  Firecraft,  here,  was  about  to  be  eaten  by  him,  and  my 
weapons  were  not  nigh.  Moreover,  I  shall  consume  his  flesh,  and  so 
shall  get  braver  even  than  what  I  am.” 

But  the  father  said  to  them  all  that  care  was  as  good  sometimes 
as  bravery,  and  thus  he  continued  counselling  his  brood  till  the  meal 
was  over  and  he  cried:  “The  Balls!” 

At  this  the  children  shot  from  the  eat -board,  straightway  return¬ 
ing  with  round,  bearded  objects  which  they  began  to  trundle. 

“The  kinder  got  them  from  the  palings  about  my  cone-house,” 


THE  SCHOOL 


315 


explained  Craft.  One  and  then  another  of  the  balls  he  lifted  up, 
boasted  (if  boasting  it  were)  of  his  exploits  in  the  battles  of  the 
twelvemonth.  “This  was  the  head  of  Yellow-hair  (I  had  to  hit  him 
twice).  This  of  Wood-wise  (he  was  easier).  These  the  heads  of  Fork- 
beard,  of  Red-beard  and  Long-beard.  These  six  here —  What  sayest, 
O  Simon  of  Cyrene  ?  Come  back,  on  a  day,  for  thou  art  very  welcome 
at  our  eat-board.  In  any  case,  I  soon  will  follow  thee  to  the  Moot.” 

The  children  echoed,  “Welcome,  stranger,  at  our  eat-board.  But 
anger  us  not  at  all  at  any  time.” 

“And  bring  us  always  excellent  spear-points,”  added  the  father. 

“Bring  us  always  excellent  spear-points,  and  everything  with 
which  to  kill,”  echoed  the  children. 

But  the  Jew,  having  arisen  into  the  world  of  light,  espied  a  cheorl 
coming  toward  him,  a  man  of  gigantic  stature  with  a  great  red  beard, 
a  mass  of  flame-like  hair,  and  enormously  long  arms.  “Thou  hast 
come  for  me?” 

“I  have  come.” 

The  Jew  went  with  him,  a  Sabbath  day’s  journey  or  more,  deeply 
and  yet  more  deeply  into  the  gloomy  woods. 

A  wind  sprang  up  suddenly,  and  began  to  moan  in  innumerable 
pines.  Above  the  tree-tops  solitary  clouds  scurried  from  place  to 
place,  as  seeking,  and  never  finding,  a  shelter.  His  grim  conductor, 
drawing  a  sword,  motioned  toward  a  narrow  pass  that  led  more  deeply 
still  into  the  forest.  He  explained,  “I  am  here  to  remain:  thou  to 
go  yonder.  Go.” 

The  Jew,  so  bidden,  went. 

Rounding  the  corner  of  a  great,  riven  rock,  he  suddenly  beheld — 
the  vast  place  of  assembly. 

CHAPTER  XXXVI 
Seli-Secg 

At  the  farther  end  of  the  moot-plain  was  a  lofty  hill,  with  a  single 
giant  oak  upon  its  summit.  On  the  plain,  this  side  the  hill,  stood  the 
whole  moot-crowd,  hatless  giants,  each  grasping  a  great  shield  and 
a  suerd.  The  multitude  was  silent,  looking  with  stern  blue  eyes  at 
the  Jew. 

Now  Simon,  for  a  moment,  stopped  stock  still,  feeling  a  presenti¬ 
ment  of  evil  such  as  he  had  never  known  before. 

His  eyes  caught  sight  of  the  altar  underneath  the  oak.  The  white- 
clad  priest,  Drugi-thing,  he  with  the  treacherous  eyes,  was  just  issuing 
from  behind  the  oak,  leading  a  tall  black  horse. 


316 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


The  horse  was  thrown,  and,  being  bound,  was  cast  by  the  priest’s 
assistants  up  upon  the  altar. 

At  a  sweep  the  priest  cut  the  horse’s  throat,  and  the  King  ran 
up  first  of  all  and  drank  of  the  blood.  Next,  his  own  many  sons. 
Next  unto  these,  his  fair  daughter.  Then  all  freemen  came,  in  pairs, 
and  with  shields  and  suerds,  as  fast  as  the  priest  cried  off  their 
names:  “Wood-wise  and  Long-hand,  Plow-holder  and  Red-beard, 
Wood-father  and  Wood-teacher,  Hand-grip  and  Iron-hand,  Strike- 
quick  and  Fight-hard,  War-long  and  Kill-soon,  Wolf -choker  and  Man- 
stabber,”  with  hundreds  and  hundreds  of  pairs  of  other  warriors  with 
fierce  and  insatiable  names. 

Then,  when  all  had  drunken,  the  priest  of  all  craftiness,  even  Drugi- 
thing,  the  man  with  the  ever-shifting  eyes,  prayed  to  the  war-god  Thor 
(as  well  as  also  unto  other  lords  of  battles,  of  which  there  were  many) 
that  the  courage  and  the  strength  of  the  horse  should  straightway 
pass  into  the  hearts  and  bones  of  all  them  that  had  drunk  of  the 
blood  this  day. 

Thereat  thought  Simon,  “Behold  the  trap  that  now  I  am  come 
into.  If,  perchance,  in  what  I  am  yet  to  accomplish,  I  should  prove 
cowardly,  these  men  will  of  a  surety  slay  me.  Yet,  if  I  appear  unto 
them  brave,  they  will  wish  to  drink  my  blood,  that  my  spirit  may  be 
theirs.  Moreover,  the  smith  is  jealous  for  that  I  have  come  with 
better  javelin-points  than  his  hand  can  fashion  or  his  brain  devise. 
And  the  priest — 0  Jehovah!  doth  he  not  feel  that  I  am  surely  his 
competitor,  I  whose  God  is  indeed  an  only  god,  a  god  of  purity, 
righteousness  and  mercy?” 

Then  he  heard,  as  in  an  evil  dream,  his  own  strange  name  called 
out  from  the  plain.  His  limbs  seemed  as  water,  while  his  tongue 
clove  fast  to  his  gums  for  dryness. 

So  he  said  in  his  spirit,  “In  thee,  Jehovah,  I  take  my  refuge. 
Bend  down  thine  ear  to  me,  and  listen  to  a  son  of  Abraham  and  to 
the  husband  of  the  Covenant.  Shall  my  blood  be  spilt  in  the  snow 
and  my  bones  left  in  a  far-away  land?  Shall  the  birds  exalt  them¬ 
selves  above  me?  Thou  seest  how  sorely  thy  servant  is  afflicted,  and 
knowest  the  terrors  that  encompass  him.  To  thee  I  cling,  God  of  my 
fathers.  Be  merciful,  0  Jehovah,  unto  me,  for  I  see  none  here  but 
enemies,  and  the  strength  of  mine  arms  will  nowise  prevail,  unless 
thou  enclose  me  in  thy  hand.  Rescue  me,  therefore,  lest  I  become 
utterly  ashamed.  I  have  cried  to  thee,  Jehovah.  Let  the  distress 
be  unto  the  wicked.  Jehovah,  0  Jehovah!” 

Then  his  heart  was  straightway  lifted  up.  He  gat  himself 
together,  took  courage,  and  was  very  strong  once  more,  and  walked 


THE  SCHOOL  317 

on  down  into  the  silent  plain  of  assembly,  among  those  men  of  much 
blood  and  all  hate. 

Whenas  he  reached  the  center  of  the  lane  of  warriors,  which 
closed  up  all  round  about  him  in  a  circle,  then  the  King  of  the 
Saxons,  even  Krieg,  drew  anigh  to  him  and  placed  a  heavy  hand 
upon  his  shoulder.  And  the  priest,  even  Drugi-thing,  came  up  closer, 
and  stood  before  those  twain,  crying  to  the  multitude:  “Be  silent, 
high  and  low,  for  the  King  will  speak.’’ 

Said  Krieg,  “Saxons  all,  freemen  and  true  vassals,  this  is  the 
fifth  day  of  the  week — the  day  sacred  unto  Thor.  As  ye  all  saw,  the 
lots  were  cast,  and  they  were  favorable.  Also,  the  horse  was  sacrificed, 
and  behold  the  signs  were  again  favorable.  It  is  therefore  left  to  us 
mortals  by  all  the  gods  to  say  whether  we  shall  buy  this  merchant’s 
weapons  or  shall  not  buy  them,  or  whether  we  shall  take  them  without 
payment  and  slay  him,  or  whether  we  shall  indeed  seize  them  without 
payment  and  yet  shall  let  him  go  unscathed.  In  any  case,  the  priest, 
even  Drugi-thing  (who  hath  been  both  in  Spain  and  in  Gaul  and  in 
Italy)  hath  vowed  that  he  will  find  for  us  the  forge  that  hath  made 
these  points.  He  hath  vowed,  and  he  voweth  not  in  vain.  What 
therefore  say  ye?  Let  any  freeman  speak  his  mind.  All  in  this 
assembly  have  equal  rights.” 

There  was  one  man  there,  then,  in  all  the  assembly,  who,  taking 
the  Cuning  at  his  word,  objected  thus:  “Why  hast  thou  not  said,  O 
Krieg,  that  thou  didst  promise  this  man  a  safe  conduct,  and  that 
for  his  javelin-points  he  ought  to  receive  (if  only  the  gods  were 
willing)  a  hundred  heavy  rings  of  gold  and  twice  their  weight  in 
bright  amber?” 

At  this,  the  eldest  son  of  the  King  stepped  out,  and,  saying  ‘  ‘  Thy 
name  is  Craft,  but  mine  is  Craftier,”  slew  the  man.  His  blood  flew 
over  the  prince’s  shoulder  on  the  face  of  the  Jew.  And  behold,  the 
man  that  was  dead  was  the  man  of  the  fire-box  and  the  smoke-guide. 

The  King  said  unto  the  son  (it  was  Krieg-deor,  which  meaneth 
“War-beast”)  :  “I  am  much  beholden  unto  thee,  0  dear  first  born, 
for  why  will  any  freeman  thus  attempt  to  abuse  his  freedom?  That 
man  knew  not  liberty,  nor  its  rightful  use.” 

The  assembled  warriors,  thereupon,  beating  loudly  on  their  shields 
with  their  suerds ,  cried:  “Hael,  Krieg!  Hael,  Krieg!  Thrice  hael 
to  the  King  of  the  Saxons,  him  who  hath  given  us  liberty!” 

Then  said  the  Jew  in  his  spirit,  for  he  saw  the  trend  of  matters 
wholly:  “Oh  that  Messiah  had  come!  Oh  that  a  man  might  have 
his  justice!  Oh  that  the  sword  of  the  Lord  were  already  set  upon 
the  earth,  and  had  swept  it  of  unrighteousness!  Or  if  one  from 


318 


SIMON  OF  GYRENE 


above  were  come  with  fire  and  with  hail  and  with  lightning  and  with 
thunder,  and  should  wholly  devastate  the  earth.  Or  give  me,  0 
Jehovah,  merely  that  Roman  law  which  I —  No,  no —  What  then? 
Nothing.  Nothing?  Mine  arms?  What  shall  they  avail?” 

But  still,  as  he  pondered,  he  saw  with  greater  and  greater  clear¬ 
ness  that  one  lone,  single  thought  filled  up  these  Saxons’  minds,  and 
that  that  thought  was  blood  and  bravery.  Blood  and  bravery, 
bravery  and  blood!  There  was  no  other  way  to  reach  their  hearts 
and  minds  than  by  the  road  of  bravery  and  blood. 

Now  the  Jew’s  whole  spirit  rebelled  at  what  was  working  in  him, 
for  it  thoroughly  honored  the  temple  of  man’s  soul  and  would  have 
saved  it  touch  of  hurt  or  injury.  Moreover,  the  law  of  his  people, 
said  it  not:  4 ‘Whoso  sheddeth  man’s  blood,  by  man  shall  his  blood 
be  shed:  for  in  the  image  of  God  made  He  man”? 

So  the  soul  of  the  Jew  was  riven,  and  he  knew  not  what  to  do. 
He  suffered  exceedingly. 

At  last  it  seemed  to  him  that  it  was  better  he  should  fight.  Why 
indeed  should  he  forever  bear?  BEAR?  A  figure  arose  in  sweet 
tearful  majesty,  in  whose  all-compelling  presence  the  scene  around 
him  passed  away.  Once  more  he  beheld,  as  though  with  physical 
vision,  the  roaring,  hell-cursed  multitude  just  outside  the  choked  up 
Gate  of  the  Gardens,  saw  the  gleaming  soldiers,  felt  the  lash,  picked 
up  the  contaminating  cross,  and  then — BEAR! 

Bear  what? 

Everything. 

But  he  was  flesh  and  blood ! 

Bear. 

Now  the  sweet  compulsion  was  jarred  into  and  interrupted.  Krieg 
it  was  who  spoke.  “The  people  having  mentioned  their  mind,”  said 
Krieg,  with  a  sound  like  the  grating  of  rough  iron,  “perhaps  will 
now  permit  their  leader  to  set  his  own  opinion  forth.  And  that 
opinion  is  that  we  should  seize  these  points  (for  they  are  good  indeed, 
as  some  of  you  know,  having  cast  them  into  oak  trees  and  so  tested 
them)  and  that  then  we  should  shew  this  Simon  of  Cyrene  forth,  far 
beyond  the  marks,  and  without  any  payment  for  his  points.  For 
behold,  he  is  not  home-born  (is  he?)  but  hath  singular  marks,  being 
dark  of  visage  and  eye,  and  not  at  all  inclined  to  blood  and  war — 
from  which  we  know  him  without  doubt  to  be  unworthy.” 

Then  said  Simon  of  Cyrene  to  the  King  in  a  voice  of  exceeding 
tenderness  and  pleading,  “I  came  among  you  only  to  be  of  as  excel¬ 
lent  service  unto  you  as  I  could.  For  I  had  heard  ye  were  all  brave 
men.  Moreover,  thou,  0  Krieg,  didst  give  me  a  promise  at  the 


THE  SCHOOL 


319 


marches  not  only  of  safe  conduct,  but  also  of  a  hundred  rings  and 
of  much  clear  amber — if  that  my  weapons  pleased  thee.  Now  ye 
have  found  the  points  of  the  javelins  that  they  are  good.  Give  me, 
therefore,  that  which  thou  hast  said  thou  wouldst  give.  Give  me  the 
things  which  are  truly  mine  in  accordance  with  the  agreement/’ 

At  this  the  face  of  the  King  waxed  red,  and  his  brows  ran  together. 
“ Agreement!  What  is  an  agreement?  A  word,  a  sound,  a  breath, 
a  little  air  that  is  spoken  and  gone.  Pay  no  further  heed  unto  it.” 

“Let  be,”  cried  then  Krieg-deor  to  his  father.  “Let  be,  and  I  will 
stab  this  craven  Jew,  so  that  his  soul  may  rush  at  once  unto  Hellia. 
Then  he  shall  have  those  rings  and  the  amber  which  long  he  hath 
sought  to  obtain  from  us,  and  to  take  away  that  never  we  should 
see  them  more.” 

At  that  he  dashed  with  gleaming  blade  upon  the  Jew. 

But  Simon,  in  the  way  he  had  learned  from  Lampadephorus, 
avoided  him.  Catching  him  by  the  hand  that  held  the  sword,  and 
taking  him  by  the  middle  of  his  thigh,  he  threw  him.  Lifting  up 
the  great  man  once  again,  he  flung  him  that  his  bulky  form  flew, 
hurtling,  far  above  the  heads  of  the  assembled  multitude.  Striking 
against  a  tree,  Krieg-deor  fell  as  silent  as  any  stone. 

Drew  Simon  his  two  bright  blades,  for  he  felt  that  his  days 
were  numbered. 

But  behold!  The  soldiers  were  filled  with  astonishment,  and  the 
fair-haired  daughter  of  the  King,  even  Maerthu  (whose  name,  inter¬ 
preted,  signifieth  “glory”)  rushed  out  from  the  ranks  of  the  multi¬ 
tude,  and  cast  herself  at  Simon’s  feet.  Lifting  her  hands  above  her 
golden  hair  (which  made  a  shine  all  round  about  her,  as  it  were 
sunlight)  she  cried  to  the  Jew:  “Oh  thou  art  unto  me,  very  strong 
one,  like  a  harp-song,  and  like  sweet  dreaming  which  cometh  the  night 
before  battle. 

“Ask  of  my  father  for  me.  Give  him  the  gold  and  the  spear- 
points  also  (for  thou  canst  easily  get  more  such)  and  I  will  be  to  thee 
as  one  of  the  Valkyrias,  go  with  thee  into  battle,  lead  thee  and  guide 
thee,  protect  thee,  be  to  thee  ever  as  an  inspiration.  Thou  art  strong 
and  brave,  worthy  in  all  ways  to  be  my  troth-plight  man.” 

When  Krieg  observed  that  his  golden-headed  daughter,  Maerthu, 
favored  the  Jew,  he  became  more  angry  than  ever.  “Is  it  the  daugh¬ 
ter  of  King  Krieg  that  should  go  to  a  merchant  and  stranger?  Let 
be!  And  see,  I  will  do  to  this  cheorl  that  which  another  hath  not 
been  able  to  accomplish — or  if  I  cannot,  then,  ye  Saxon  freemen, 
leap  all  at  the  same  time  upon  him,  and  so  be  certain  to  destroy 
him.” 


320 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


The  golden-haired  Maerthu,  however,  made  answer :  “If  that  man 
meeteth  death,  then  send  I  mine  own  free  soul  to  Asgard.  Father 
Woden,  I  do  promise  thee.” 

And  Krieg  trembled,  for  he  loved  his  daughter  much.  Yea,  the 
most  of  the  pleasure  which  he  had  in  battles  was  to  hear  his  daughter 
praise  him  amid  the  uproar. 

And  Drugi-thing,  the  crafty  priest,  when  he  saw  that  now,  in  any 
case,  it  lay  not  in  his  evil  hands  to  do  the  Jew  injury,  came  forward 
(though  still  with  ever-shifting  eyes)  and  whispered:  “Lo!  Are 
we  not  every  one  angry?  And  can  we  indeed  do  well,  being  so,  or 
speak  the  thing  that  Woden,  in  his  wisdom,  would  approve?  Let  be, 
therefore,  and,  for  a  time,  tarry. 

“And  let  this  Simon  of  Cyrene  be  unto  us  not  as  one  married  to 
the  King’s  daughter,  hut  as  a  sacred  guest.  Hast  thou  not  promised 
the  man  that  so  it  should  he?  Let  him  be  Seli-Secg,  the  hero  of  the 
hall,  for,  on  this  day,  he  hath  done  great  things. 

“And  let  there  be  in  the  hall  seli-dream,  or  feasting  and  festivity 
throughout  the  banquet-chamber,  and  that  on  many  continuous  days. 

“And  when  we  have  much  eaten  and  long  drunken,  it  may  be 
that  Woden  shall  give  us  (after  his  fashion  in  these  matters)  a  vision 
wherein  he  may  instruct  us  how  we  shall  deal  with  Simon  of  Cyrene.  ’  ’ 


CHAPTER  XXXYII 
No  Land  Whatever 

Said  the  Jew  in  his  soul,  “I  know  not  whether  to  fear  or  to  feel 
happiness.  For  lo,  this  woman  doth  love  me  and  will  save  me  if  she 
can,  while  yet,  in  the  very  same  time,  I  see  too  clearly  that  the  priest 
is  nothing  but  fraud  and  deception.  He  will  send  me  (if  only  his 
chance  be  given)  unto  Hades.” 

But  the  daughter  added  to  the  dark  whisperings  of  the  priest 
her  clear-spoken  syllables,  which  indeed  were  like  the  blessed  singing 
of  a  bird  in  summer  sunshine.  She  said,  “Dear  Father,  as  the  priest 
saith  so  am  I  willing.  Let  the  Jew  be  the  hero  of  the  hall,  and  let 
there  be  seli-dream.” 

The  King  said,  putting  up  his  bright  sword:  “It  shall  be  as 
thou  likest.” 

He  gave,  therefore,  orders,  and  the  huntsmen  started  for  the  kill¬ 
ing  of  game,  and  the  cheorls  to  the  cutting  up  of  logs  for  great  fires, 
and  the  Jew  was  taken  to  his  own  apartment  in  the  Krieg ’s  seli.  In 


321 


THE  SCHOOL 

that  place,  when  he  had.  well  eaten,  he  laid  him  down  and  sought  to 
sleep. 

But,  for  a  time,  his  eyes  were  wide  in  the  darkness.  In  his  soul, 
he  did  repent  him  that  ever  he  had  come  among  these  Saxons,  seek¬ 
ing  to  sell  the  implements  of  death. 

But  after  he  had  fallen  asleep,  there  burst  upon  his  dreaming,  and 
so  awoke  him,  an  unspeakable  tumult  and  uproar,  wherein  were  inter¬ 
mingled  death-groans  and  screams  of  pain  and  triumphant  cries. 
Through  the  tempest  of  voices,  the  slithering  and  clanging  of  steel 
on  steel. 

Up  leapt  the  Jew.  From  the  wall  he  tore  a  stanchion  out,  then, 
in  the  moonlight,  beheld  both  Saxons  and  Semnones,  a  struggling 
host.  Farther  and  farther  they  struggled  off,  into  the  muffling  woods 
and  distant  marshes  till  at  length  the  moonlit  world  about  the  hall 
was  silent. 

Came  out  from  the  seli  an  aged  man,  wearing  a  beard  like  that 
of  Father  Time.  He  appeared  to  be  wholly  sightless,  and,  in  his 
hand,  he  held  a  beautiful  harp. 

Upon  a  stone  took  he  his  seat,  underneath  an  oak-tree,  and,  singing 
first  of  gods  above,  both  Hemdal,  the  god  of  battles,  and  the  sword- 
god,  Saxnot,  eke  of  Woden,  the  Allfather,  the  mightiest  war-god  of 
all  of  them,  he  declared  that  his  name  was  Luggi-dom  (or  false  fame) 
he  who  celebrated  deeds  of  blood. 

He  sang,  too,  of  the  great  wig-mot,  which  is  to  say  the  battle- 
rush,  of  the  beautiful  bitings  of  steel  on  steel,  and  of  steel  on  bones, 
of  the  cries,  the  cowardice,  the  bravery,  of  the  wonderful  treachery 
and  surprise  which  old  Treulos,  he  of  the  one  eye,  King  of  all  the 
Semnones,  had  practiced  upon  Krieg  and  his  Saxon  braves.  Then 
of  the  rallying  of  the  Saxons,  how  they  had  quickly  encompassed 
the  King’s  seli,  and  so  saved  it,  then  how,  beating  steel  on  skull,  they 
had  driven  off  old  Treulos  backward,  backward  out  of  the  hall-yard, 
backward,  backward,  down  to  the  pine  forests,  backward,  backward 
into  the  deep  marshes,  there  to  be  a  prey  both  to  snakes  and  to 
wolves.  “And  our  chieftain,  Krieg,  he  is  Snaka,  the  Snake,  for  who 
is  like  unto  him  for  wisdom  and  for  artifices?” 

Then  he  sang  long  of  the  wondrous  merits  and  virtues  of  the 
War-Serpent,  that  all  should  bow  before  it,  for  that  it  was  very 
mighty.  Its  voice  was  sharp  and  clear  and  hissing  and  very  beautiful. 
Its  venom  was  only  for  enemies,  and  not  for  friends.  Let  every  one 
beware,  then,  and  be  but  a  friend  of  the  Snake,  else  was  the  name 
of  that  incautious  person  but  a  by-word  and  a  syllable  without  mean¬ 
ing.  Let  also  the  merchants  who  wTould  come  from  afar  deal  justly. 

21 


322 


SIMON  OF  GYRENE 


Let  them  not  think  to  rob  the  Saxon  Krieg,  Cuning  of  all  the  Saxons, 
for  his  wisdom  was  very  great.  0  who  could  understand  his  wisdom 
or  his  machinations?  Surely  not  the  enemy;  no,  not  they. 

And  while  he  was  concluding  with  a  sweet,  melodious  blessing 
upon  King  Krieg,  behold,  back,  triumphant,  each  with  a  yellow  head 
upon  his  spear-point,  and  with  great  round  dripping  things  beneath 
his  arms,  the  Saxons  returned. 

The  round  things  placed  they  on  stakes,  and  set  the  stakes  up 
for  a  fence  all  about  the  King’s  seli,  and,  while  they  were  busy  at 
this,  there  came  out  running  Modar-obarmodias,  the  queen-mother, 
saying:  ‘‘Praise  Woden,  there  hath  been  another  fight.”  (But 
Maerthu  was  busy  at  the  great  fence,  setting  up  the  heads.) 

At  this,  the  queen-mother,  seeing  her  young  son,  Kill-quick,  eating 
of  butter  upon  bread,  reproached  him,  saying:  “What!  wouldst 
become  a  coward?  Knowest  thou  not  that  butter  is  not  for  food, 
but  for  a  salve,1  with  which  to  rub  the  wounds  when  Woden  hath 
not  healed  them?  Wilt  thou  be  soft,  a  runner  away  from  enemies? 
Look  up  !  Thou  wilt  be  a  warrior,  wilt  thou,  and  stand  in  the  presence 
of  men — thou  who  eatest  medicine?  Thou  art  only  a  laugh-thing, 
and  wilt  be  afraid  of  blood.” 

And  far  away  there  was  sound  of  much  thundering. 

“A  laugh-thing  am  I  not,”  cried  Kill-quick.  “See!  I  am  not  a 
coward !  ’ 9 

With  his  knife  he  cut  a  deep  gash  in  his  left  fore-arm,  and  the 
blood  spurted,  and  he  went  and  let  it  spout  in  his  mother’s  face, 
saying:  “Am  I  a  laugh-thing?  A  coward  am  I  not.” 

But  the  mother  struck  him  a  great  blow  on  the  neck,  crying : 
“Go  into  the  seli  with  Maerthu,  and  have  her  burn  thee  ere  thou 
bleed  to  death.  Maerthu !  Where  is  Maerthu  ?  Not  here  ?  Then 
go  thyself  and  burn  it  with  the  burning-iron,  as  thou  hast  seen  thy 
father  and  thy  brothers  staunch  their  own  wounds  these  many  long 
days.  ’  ’ 

The  child  went  into  the  hall,  and  Modar-obarmodias,  the  queen- 
mother,  said  to  the  old  blind  harper:  “He  is  a  fool  for  to  shed  his 
own  blood,  not  that  of  an  enemy — just  to  show  me  he  not  a  laugh- 
thing  is,  or  a  coward.  Did  not  I  know  that?” 

But  at  this  she  was  called  by  women  from  the  seli.  “Come! 
thy  son  !  he  dieth !  ’  ’  But  they  brought  the  boy  outside,  and  laid  him 
along  the  ground. 

And  the  life  (which  goeth  with  the  blood)  had  escaped. 

1  See,  inter  alia,  Hoops,  “Reallexikon  der  germanischen  Altertumskunde,”  I  Bd., 
3  Lieferung,  p.  364,  article  “Butter.” 


THE  SCHOOL 


323 


And  many  there  were  which  ran  to  the  father,  even  Krieg,  bring¬ 
ing  him  to  the  place  where  the  dead  child  lay. 

And  Modar-obarmodias,  mother  and  queen,  told  Krieg  all  that 
had  happened.  But  Krieg  said  softly  unto  her,  “Thou  hast  thought 
to  do  wisely.  And  thanks  to  all  the  godo  that  the  child  was  not  a 
fool.  He  is  surely  with  Woden  and  Thor,  for  he  died  no  straw- 
death.  ’  ’ 

At  this  was  a  rumbling  of  thunder  at  a  great  distance,  and  the 
King  cried,  looking  toward  the  West:  “  ’Tis  thou,  0  Woden!  He 
is  with  thee!  I  have  heard. ” 

Then  took  Krieg  with  him  the  priest  and  a  dozen  of  the  bravest 
of  all  the  warriors,  and  went  out  into  the  forest,  even  to  the  graf- 
stedi.  There  they  buried  the  child. 

But  while  they  were  afar,  the  Jew  talked  much  with  many  of 
the  commoner  people,  and  inquired  precisely  as  concerning  their 
beliefs  and  about  the  stories  which  they  told  or  sang  concerning 
their  own  ancestry  and  the  histories  of  their  gods. 

In  return  he  related  to  them  from  time  to  time  full  many  a  thing 
about  Jehovah,  the  Creator,  whose  days  had  never  known  beginning 
and  should  never  know  an  end.  Yet  seemed  only  a  few  of  the  people 
capable  of  comprehending,  even  by  the  time  that  Krieg  returned 
from  the  burial. 

Which  was  after  a  number  of  days — for  he  had  met,  in  the  deep 
ways  of  the  forest,  a  band  of  enemies — Krieg  and  his  dozen  of  great 
warriors — and  they  gave  pursuit,  and  followed  the  enemy  mightily, 
and  having  compassed  them  about,  conquered  them  and  slaughtered 
them,  and  left  their  bodies  for  the  wolves — all  saving  the  heads  alone. 
These  they  brought  back  with  them — crying  as  they  came  in  sight  of 
the  seli:  “Blessed  is  Woden,  the  Allfather!  He  is  god  of  war.” 

Then,  tired  as  they  were,  they  went  to  the  banquet,  which  had 
been  a-waiting.  Nor  stopped  they  either  to  sleep  or  to  bathe. 

Now  the  banquet,  the  seli-ho-getidi,  was  to  be  held  in  the  great 
banquet  hall,  where  the  father  of  Krieg  (who  bore  the  name  of 
Gedrinc,  which,  interpreted,  meaneth  “carousing”),  had  feasted  long 
before  him,  and  his  father  (also  named  “Krieg”)  before  that. 

All  round  this  hall  was  an  outside  wall,  or  fence,  of  timber,  with 
but  a  single  gate  therein  and  a  yard  of  considerable  compass  lying 
betwixt  wall  and  hall.  And  wall  and  hall  were  both  painted  wholly 
red.  Even  the  hall’s  roof  was  dyed  with  an  ochre  of  crimson.  “For 
that,”  said  Maerthu  to  Simon  of  Cyrene,  “is  the  color  of  blood.  We 
see  it  very  willingly.” 

And  Maerthu,  the  King’s  fair  daughter,  led  the  Jew  into  the 


324 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


liall  with  her  own  hand,  saying :  ‘  ‘  Thou  art  the  bravest  of  all. 

Thou  art  like  music  to  me  and  like  blood.  I  alone  shall  take  thee  in 
to  the  feast.” 

She  led  him,  therefore,  into  the  hall. 

Then  saw  the  Jew  all  round  about  him  an  enormous  apartment, 
once  indeed  red,  now  mostly  blackened  with  smoke,  for,  in  the  middle 
of  the  room,  lay  a  great  stone,  whereon  an  enormous  fire  blazed 
(though  the  weather  had  grown  warmer),  and  the  smoke  thereof, 
running  in  a  thick  pillar  up  to  the  smoke-hole  in  the  roof,  would 
sometimes  waver  and  return  into  the  room  and  fill  it  with  stinging 
darkness. 

At  the  farther  extremity  of  this  enormous  apartment,  was  a  dais, 
the  “High  Seat”  (so  Maerthu  called  it)  and,  close  this  side  thereof, 
a  bench  almost  as  high,  which  she  called  the  “Second  Seat.”  Round 
the  three  other  sides  of  the  room  was  one  continuous  oaken  settle, 
on  which  the  freemen  and  their  wives  did  sit,  while  the  churls  and 
their  very  humble  consorts  sat,  or  half  lay  or  squatted,  huddled  up 
in  highly  expectant  confusion  on  the  floor. 

“Pick  thou  thy  way  through  the  floor-sitters!”  cried  Maerthu. 
“Make  thou  room  there,  Wood-wise  and  Tree-cutter,  Wood-woman 
and  Fork-heard.  Know  ye  not  that  I  am  daughter  of  the  King,  and 
that  this  man  is  our  guest  and  one  that  hath  shed  much  blood?” 

Thereat  the  sitters  on  the  floor  hurst  out  angrily,  some  of  them 
crying  one  thing,  some  another.  But  a  man  named  Plow-holder 
shouted  most  fiercely  of  all :  “  It  is  well,  is  it  not,  to  make  room  ? 
Let  bright  home-born  people  get  from  under  the  footsteps  of  a  dark 
stranger!  Aye,  it  is  well.  Aye,  ye  do  say  wisely!” 

But  the  bright  daughter  of  the  King  shouted,  “Give  me  thy 
sword,  0  Simon,  and  once  for  all  I  will  end  this  fellow.”  But  the 
cheorl  ran,  quitting  the  seli,  and  the  horns  sounded  bravely,  and  the 
hall  was  over-filled  with  din,  for  the  King  came  stalking  into  it,  and 
the  queen-mother,  attended  both  by  many  heralds  with  their  horns, 
and  also  by  Drugi-thing,  the  priest  with  the  shifting  eyes. 

'  But  when  the  King  and  the  Queen  had  taken  their  places  on  the 
dais,  and  then  the  bright  daughter  of  Krieg  would  have  led  the  Jew 
straightway  among  them,  and  would  have  had  him  seated  by  her 
side,  then  the  priest  whispered  in  the  King’s  ear,  and  the  King 
frowned.  And  he  cried  unto  Maerthu,  “Let  be!  Wilt  thou  take 
unto  thee  to  husband  him  that  a  stranger  is,  and  all  of  darkness, 
and  while  the  home-born  heroes  wait?  And  who  is  this  Simon  of 
Cyrene,  out  of  Palestine?  Is  he  not  a  were-wolf  ?  Was  he  not  seen 
(too  early  for  his  happiness)  on  the  very  day  he  came  among  us, 


THE  SCHOOL 


325 


both  by  Strike-hard  the  smith,  and  by  the  great  priest  of  Woden, 
Drugi-thing,  there  on  the  Crest  of  Error? 

“It  is  even  so.  For  the  smith  and  the  priest  they  were  mounting 
up  the  hill,  and,  coming  on  a  great  white  wolf,  it  ran  before  them, 
going  over  the  hill-top.  And  when  they  had  reached  the  crest  them¬ 
selves,  behold —  There  was  not  one  wolf  over  all  the  snow,  but  only 
the  black  Jew  (who  was,  truly,  himself  the  wolf)  he  and  his  sledge. 
For  he  had  said  the  magic  words,  and  gone  back  into  the  shape  of 
a  man.  But  we  know  him,  what  he  is.  He  is  no  man  at  all,  but  a 
wrolf.  On  a  day,  he  will  eat  our  children  up,  aye  ourselves  also.” 

Said  Drugi-thing,  the  priest:  “It  is  right  that  we  try  this  man 
for  his  evil,  before  we  lift  one  horn  of  mead  to  our  lips.  Let  us 
therefore  give  him  now  his  ordeal  by  fire.” 

Then  uprose  Maerthu,  controlling  her  anger,  for  she  knew  that 
all  these  things  were  the  cunning  of  the  priest.  Said  she,  “Mighty 
Father,  King  of  all  the  Saxons,  thou  hast  the  power  to  do  what  thou 
wilt.  If,  then,  it  be  for  thy  daughter  to  speak  unto  thee,  and  to 
break  her  mind  within  this  hall,  then,  0  puissant  Father,  I  would 
ask  of  thee  that  thou  have  here  and  now  no  trial  of  any  one  of  us, 
for  to  see  if  that  one  be  a  werewolf,  but  that  we  shall  feast  devoid 
of  interruption  till  the  Star  of  Woden  come  to  stand  directly  over 
the  smoke-hole.  For  then,  as  thou  knowest,  at  that  very  hour,  must 
each  and  every  wolf  that  is  a  were,  turn  back  into  a  wolf,  whereby 
he  may  be  detected  and  yet  an  amusement  be  made  for  the  rest  of 
us  also — which  is  better,  surely,  than  any  ordeal,  even  that  by  fire.” 

At  this  the  King  cried,  “No.”  But  the  cheorls  and  the  freemen 
shouted,  “Try  nobody  now.  Wait  until  the  hour.  It  will  be  an 
amusement  for  us,  and  we,  with  our  own  good  hands,  will  kill  the 
big  white  wolf  that  would  eat  us  and  our  children.” 

So  the  King  gave  way,  and  the  mead  came,  and  all  drank  deeply, 
crying:  “Hael,  King!  Hael,  Priest!  Hael,  Strike-hard,  the  black¬ 
smith,  he  that  maketh  the  weapons!  Hael  mostly  Krieg,  King  of 
the  Saxons!” 

The  wild-boar  came,  served  on  a  platter  of  wood,  and  the  deer- 
meat  also,  and  the  meat  of  the  wolf  and  the  horse. 

And  the  mead-horns  passed  around  and  yet  around  again,  and 
still  they  kept  on  passing,  so  that  the  hall  was  terribly  mead-mad, 
and  then  some  of  the  cheorls  asked  for  singing  and  the  music  of  the 
blind  harper,  others  that  there  should  be  a  skin-pulling — for  by  now 
the  enormous  fire  on  the  stone  was  a  mass  of  living  coals. 

So  War-beast  and  one  of  his  younger  brethren,  called  Trick-battle, 
came  down  from  the  High  Seat  by  their  father,  and,  taking  a  long, 


326 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


strong  walrus-hide,  from  its  hook  on  a  stanchion,  each  seized  one 
end  thereof,  and  then  stood  opposite  his  brother,  with  the  great  fire 
quiet  between  them.  Each  did  seek  to  pull  the  other  down  upon 
the  fire  by  means  of  the  hide  of  the  walrus. 

They  pulled  so  hard  that  the  sweat  stood  out  on  their  temples, 
and  their  drunken  eyes  seemed  like  to  pop  first  to  the  fire. 

The  hall  shrieked,  and  men  and  women  were  happy. 

Then  gave  War-beast  a  sudden  tug,  turning  at  the  same  time,  and 
placing  his  shoulder  underneath  the  hide.  Trick-battle,  then,  was 
almost  lost,  for  his  feet  went  into  the  fire,  but  the  hide  was  torn 
asunder,  and  so  he  was  saved  with  only  a  singeing  of  his  soles. 

Then  shouted  all,  “An  ox-hide!  an  ox-hide!” 

And  the  father  gave  command  that  the  hide  of  an  ox  should 
come. 

And  with  this  they  pulled  and  tugged  again,  both  steadily  and 
suddenly,  and  with  many  curious  feints  and  strategems,  which  only 
the  learned  in  these  matters  knew. 

Trick-battle  said  unto  his  brother,  “Thy  knee  burneth!”  War- 
beast  looked,  and  at  that  the  other  pulled  with  all  his  strength,  and 
brought  the  War-beast — even  Wig-dier,  his  brother — forward  and 
down  into  the  coals. 

And  he  threw  the  hide  upon  his  brother,  and  jumped  upon  it. 

Then  filled  the  hall  with  deafening  uproar,  and  woundings  began, 
for  the  jumpings  were  not  permissible,  and  the  freemen  drew  their 
swords,  taking  sides,  and  all  the  churls  drew  sticks,  grouping  them¬ 
selves  on  opposite  parts  of  the  building,  so  that  Luggi-dom,  the  old 
harper,  was  fain  to  play  upon  his  harp  and  sing  to  them,  while  the 
King  and  the  Priest  cried  for  silence. 

Then  Wig-dier,  the  war-beast,  was  taken  without,  that  his  wounds 
might  be  dressed  with  butter.  But  the  people  remained  and  heard 
the  harper,  with  stern,  set  faces  and  gleaming,  glassy  eyes — for  the 
harper  played  the  Saxon  battle-tunes  and  sang  of  long  combats,  in 
which  their  people  had  ruled  the  day,  and  in  which  there  had  been 
much  blood. 

So  he  continued  singing  till  at  length  the  Priest  of  Woden,  Drugi- 
thing,  whispered  to  the  King,  and  the  King  cried  out:  “Let  be, 
Luggi-dom!  And  turn  thy  harp  to  the  Jew,  even  Simon  of  Cyrene, 
that  he  may  play  for  us.”  (For  he  had  not  known  that  the  Jew 
could  play  the  harp.) 

Then  Simon  arose,  and,  taking  the  harp,  toyed  for  a  moment  with 
its  strings  very  softly,  just  as  the  night  wind  sighs  among  the 


THE  SCHOOL 


327 


needles  of  the  dreaming  pines,  when  God  walketh  in  his  northern 
gardens. 

And  all  the  assembly  grew  silent,  for  so  sweet  a  melody  that  hall 
had  never  before  heard. 

And  when  an  inspiration  had  come  unto  him,  then  the  Jew,  in  an 
eye-set  vision,  began  to  improvise  as  concerning  the  way  of  the  Jew 
among  other  men.  But  one  of  the  cheorls  cried,  as  he  gazed  up 
through  the  smoke-hole:  ‘‘See!  the  priest  was  mistaken!  There  is 
not  any  were-wolf  here  among  us,  for  the  Star  of  Woden  has  long 
since  passed  the  smoke-hole,  and  now  it  must  be  going  downward 
toward  its  setting.  ” 

The  heart  of  the  Jew  was  very  happy — for  he  thought  that  his 
dangers  were  all  gone. 

But  the  blind  harper,  Luggi-dom,  and  the  great  Cuning,  Krieg, 
and  likewise  Drugi-thing,  the  priest  with  the  shifting  eyes,  were 
whispering  together  behind  him,  with  their  heads  turned  away  from 
the  eyes  of  the  people. 

But  so  full  was  the  Jew’s  heart  that  he  said  within  himself, 
“Behold!  I  will  be  brave  exceedingly,  and  will  sing  to  all  these  people 
even  in  the  presence  of  their  very  King,  great  Krieg,  and  of  Drugi- 
thing,  the  crafty  one,  and  of  all  the  princes  of  the  house.  And  I 
will  sing  of  Mt.  Zion,  and  Him  whose  temple  is  thereupon,  who  indeed 
created  the  world  and  all  that  is  in  it,  and  whose  days  are  without 
number — both  without  beginning  and  without  end.” 

As  he  said  within  himself,  so  did  he. 

And  some  of  the  people  waxed  angry  that  he  sang  concerning  his 
own  God,  but  a  few  were  there  who  hid  their  eyes  and  wept.  And 
among  the  weepers  were  some  of  the  sons  of  Craft.  On  a  day  remote, 
these,  having  met  him  that  was  called  Christopherus,  became  Chris¬ 
tians  and  were  baptized.  And  going  into  many  places,  they  taught 
that  salvation  is  of  the  Jews,  in  especial  Jesus,  and  brought  many 
others  also  unto  Christ,  until  at  length,  Jehovah,  who  long  had  loved 
the  workers  and  supported  them  in  fleshly  tribulations,  reached  forth 
and  took  them  home.  But  the  sons  of  the  sons  of  Craft  still  live  and 
love  and  teach  the  doctrine  of  the  Lord  in  Germania. 

And  Maerthu,  the  bright  daughter  of  the  King,  who  sate  anigh 
unto  Simon,  looked  up  as  if  upon  an  angel  of  the  Almighty,  and 
behold,  her  eyes  also  were  swimming  with  great  tears. 

At  length  came  Simon  of  Cyrene  to  sing  of  Jehovah  as  merciful, 
as  one  whose  pity  was  endless,  in  whom  was  a  hatred  of  battle,  who 
had  declared  on  his  tablets  of  stone  this  everlasting  law :  ‘  ‘  Thou 

shalt  not  kill.” 


328 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


Started  up  Maerthu,  the  bright  daughter  of  the  Saxon  King, 
and  tore  the  sweet  harp  from  her  troth-plight’s  fingers,  and  flung 
it  to  the  farthest  timbers  of  the  room,  whereon  it  brake  into  dis¬ 
cordant  pieces.  Fiercely:  “Fool!  is  that  thy  god?  Dost  thou 
worship  a  coward?  How  have  I  been  deceived,  mighty  one,  and 
thought  thou  didst  worship  sword  and  blood!” 

Thought  Simon:  “Lost!” 

And  great  cries  rang  from  the  banquet  hall,  and  greater  from 
without,  and  guards  ran  in,  shouting:  “The  Semnones!  The  Sem- 
nones !  They  kill,  they  kill,  they  kill !  ’  ’ 

Simon  hallooed  above  the  raging  tumult,  “See!  Am  I  coward? 
I  will  fight  among  you,  and  help  to  victory.  Even  as  I  fought  for 
Lampadephorus  of  old,  so  fight  I  now  for  you.” 

He  thought  that  so  he  would  get  again  the  German  favor,  in 
especial  that  of  the  King’s  daughter. 

He  brought  therefore  from  under  his  skirt  his  two  bright  swords, 
and  fought  once  more  as  dimachasrus — even  the  way  his  oldtime 
master,  Lampadephorus,  had  taught  him  how  to  do,  both  in  Egypt 
and  in  Cyrenaica. 

And  in  the  yard  of  the  banquet-hall  he  slew  Semnones  without 
number,  and  rushing  with  the  Saxons  past  the  outer  walls,  then 
down  the  starlit  clearings  and  into  the  ways  of  the  forest,  slew  the 
retreating  enemy,  and  knew  no  mercy  at  all  to  any  thereof. 

Once,  when  the  Cuning  of  the  Saxons,  even  great  Krieg,  was 
like  to  perish  at  the  hands  of  the  chief  of  the  enemy,  he — even  he, 
the  Jew,  priest  and  prophet  of  the  Most  High — came  up,  succored 
him  and  saved. 

And  the  King  of  the  Saxons  arose,  and,  though  the  Jew  had 
stood  beside  him  to  the  saving  of  his  life,  yet  would  he  not  behold 
that  man,  but  rushed  furiously  by,  blood-drunk,  and  crazed  in  his 
very  heart,  for  that  a  Jew  and  a  merchant  had  been  of  salvation 
unto  him. 

That  night  the  battle-loving  Saxons  secured  well-nigh  their  whole 
fill  of  blood.  All  the  late  hours  they  fought,  and  many  fell.  And 
some  were  seen  no  more  in  any  guise.  For  the  wolves  gathered  round 
about  them,  or  they  dropped  into  the  bog.  Not  till  the  sun  had  well 
arisen  did  the  horns  blow,  and  Krieg,  the  King  of  the  Saxons,  lead 
back  the  remnant  of  his  hardy  host. 

And  Maerthu  was  among  the  warriors  that  went  back.  Under  her 
arms  were  the  heads  of  many  men. 

She  ran  on  well  before  the  other  warriors,  taking  her  place  (with 
sword  held  above  her  sunlit  tresses)  into  the  seli  door. 


THE  SCHOOL 


329 


The  Jew  said  in  spirit,  “She  is  mine,  for  she  saw  me  a-fighting, 
and  I  fought  as  never  man  hath  fought  ere  now.  She  is  very  beau¬ 
tiful.  The  Lord  bless  her  and  me.” 

But  when  he  had  come  anigh  the  door,  she  cried:  “Thy  God 
is  a  coward.  Get  hence.  He  is  not  my  God,  and  enter  thou  shalt 
not  here.” 

Simon  would  have  pressed  upon  her  and  upon  the  people  round 
about  them  somewhat  of  his  virtues  in  the  battle,  asking  if  none 
that  were  present  had  seen  him  in  the  fight. 

Now  Krieg  was  a-minded  to  listen,  but  Drugi-thing,  the  priest, 
advancing,  said:  “There  is  always,  puissant  monarch,  one  sure  way 
whereby  to  tell  a  wolf  which  is  masquerading  as  a  man.  Either 
some  portion  of  his  body’s  skin  is  a-wanting,  or  else  there  are  runes 
burnt  in  the  skin  of  his  forehead.”  And  he  would  have  lifted  back 
the  ringlets  of  the  Jew,  but  Simon  suffered  him  not. 

And  the  Jew  said  unto  them  all,  “Ye  have  had  my  swords,  the 
two  of  them,  and  I  your  tolerance.  Hael  and  farewell!” 

So  he  departed. 

Yet  he  remained  in  the  confines  of  the  Saxons  for  many  days, 
knowing  not  whither  to  go.  Time  and  time  again,  he  asked  for  land, 
whereon  he  might  dig  out  the  humblest  living,  yet  was  ever  refused. 

And  he  wandered  among  the  Chauci,  and  the  Angrivarii,  the 
Semnones,  the  Bructeri,  the  Marsi  and  the  Chatti.  And  he  was  turned 
away  at  many  doors,  and  at  others  he  entered  in,  but  only  on  suf¬ 
ferance.  Nowhere  would  they  give,  or  sell,  him  any  land. 

Then  fared  he  forth  from  the  marches  of  the  Germans  and  into 
far  Sarmatia,  yet  there  also  would  they  suffer  him  to  have  no  land, 
neither  an  ell  nor  an  inch.  But,  instead,  they  entreated  him  shame¬ 
fully,  so  that  he  barely  escaped  with  his  life.  And  he  came  back  and 
wandered  in  Pannonia,  Noricum,  and  Bhaetia,  likewise  in  the  country 
of  the  Vindelici.  And  everywhere  said  he  to  all,  “Let  me,  I  pray  thee, 
have  just  a  little  land.  For  I  have  no  home.  I  am  a  shepherd  by 
birth,  and  would  mind  my  sheep.  I  will  repay  thee  abundantly.  And 
thou  shalt  have  good  cause  to  bless  the  day  when  I  did  come  among 
you  and  first  did  lift  my  shepherd’s  crook  up.”  But  they  said  to 
him  everywhere,  “Thou?  A  Jew!  Fah!” 

He  went  then  into  the  Hyperborean  regions,  yea  and  farther  still. 
And  yet  would  they  nowhere  either  give  him  or  yet  sell  unto  him 
any  land.  Neither  spot  for  home  nor  yard  for  sheep  gave  they  unto 
him  or  in  anywise  sold  unto  him. 

Then,  at  length,  he  said  within  himself:  “I  have  wandered  long 
enough  in  obscure  places,  and  asked  enough  in  vain  for  land.  Am  I 


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SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


not  a  coward  that  I  go  not  unto  a  mighty  city?  Are  not  rings  and 
amber  in  the  city,  as  well  as  in  the  country,  yea  and  great  gems 
also,  the  which  a  man  might  hide  within  his  person  against  that 
time  when  he  should  need  them  for  a  quick  escape  V’  He  began  to 
remember  how  Apodoter,  the  captain  of  the  Persis,  he  that  had 
brought  unto  him  rescue  from  Mastix  and  from  the  belly  of  the 
Babylonia,  how  this  man  had  straitly  advised  him  to  leave  the  shep¬ 
herd  life  and  to  be  as  a  merchant. 

“Thou  a  shepherd!  Thou  live  in  obscure  places! 

“What  canst  thou  as  shepherd? 

“Be  a  merchant  of  a  great  city.  Let  thy  caravans  be  as  the  flights 
of  birds,  thy  ships  upon  the  sea  as  flocks  of  eagles.’ ’ 

So  had  Apodoter  admonished  him. 

He  also  remembered  the  very  delectable  lust  for  gold  that  had 
grown  up  in  his  heart  as  he  labored  in  the  Mines  of  Caesar,  and  again 
at  the  house  of  Avaritius. 

Tenfold  greater  now,  because  of  the  increasing  opposition  made 
against  him,  grew  his  hunger  for  money  and  for  power  and,  by  these, 
for  safety. 

So  at  last  his  eyes  were  opened.  All  these  wanderings  in  obscure 
places  had  been  as  a  school  to  him.  But  now  the  road — his  road — in 
life,  lay  straight  before  him.  The  city,  the  city!  Why  should  he 
longer  fear  the  Mines  when  he  should  have  made  a  friend  of  Caesar, 
the  which  he  should  surely  do?  The  people,  the  moving  crowds,  the 
smells,  the  inspiriting  noises,  the  cosmopolitan  contest  which  at  last 
he  saw  belonged  of  nature,  therefore  of  right,  unto  him,  even  Simon 
of  Cyrene!  Commerce,  profit,  money — everlasting  peace! 


BOOK  V.  A  PROMINENT  MAN 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII 

CiESAR 

On  a  day  of  days,  Caesar  gave  audience — Caesar,  great  Lord  of 
all  this  striving  earth. 

And  they  that  stood  in  the  Audience-chamber  (which  was  the 
center  of  Rome,  which,  in  its  turn,  was  center  of  the  world)  were 
very,  very  wretched,  and  very  fearful  of  their  lives. 

Certain  of  these  on  trial! 

4 4  My  power !  ’  ’  shouted  Caesar  thereunto.  4  4  Ye  hounds !  Ye  would 
take  it  from  me — my  power,  my  divinity.  Ye  would  make  my  god¬ 
head  into  naught.  Therefore  away  to  the  Mines !” 

They  that  stood  before  him  on  their  trial  were  removed  from  the 
chamber  of  audience. 

And  still  others  were  brought  in  their  stead.  These  were  accused 
of  having  conspired  against  Caesar,  but  certain  of  the  witnesses 
declared  that  he  that  had  brought  the  delation  had  lied. 

Said  Caesar,  “I  will  know  the  full  of  this  matter  on  another  day. 
Meantime — to  the  cross!” 

And  the  accused  were  removed  for  crucifixion. 

Still  others  were  brought  who  were  charged  with  being  Christians. 

Said  Caesar  unto  them,  4 4 Are  ye  indeed  such  bad  people?” 

They  said, 4 4  We  are  Christians,  but  Christians  are  not  bad  people.” 

Cried  Caesar,  4 4 Ye  do  confess  it  unto  me  that  ye  are  Christians! 
My  godhead,  oh  my  godhead,  what  is  become  of  my  godhead?  But 
I  will  be  gentle  with  you.  Unto  the  beasts.” 

Then  came  one  who  was  charged  with  stealing  a  sum  from  Caesar’s 
chests,  Caesar  said  unto  him,  4  4  Hast  thou  stolen  it  ?  ”  The  man  went 
close  up  unto  him,  and  gazed  him  in  the  eye,  and  was  not  shaken. 
Said  he,  4  4  Yea,  Lord,  I  have  stolen  it.  And  I  am  sorry,  not  indeed 
for  this,  that  I  am  a  thief,  but  that  I  have  stolen  from  Caesar,  who 
is  very  good  to  his  people,  and  who  is  the  god  of  all  this  universe.” 

Then  grinned  Caesar  in  the  midst  of  his  fatnesses.  Shouted  he, 
4  4  By  mine  own  divinity,  spoken  like  a  man.  No  filthy  worm  to  cringe 
and  crawl,  even  before  the  Lord  of  All  this  Universe,  art  thou.  Here 

331 


332 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


is  a  kiss  for  thee.  Give  him  a  quittance,  treasure-bearer,  for  his 
crime,  which  is  venial,  and  twice  the  money  he  hath  stolen. — Is  there 
yet  another  V9 

Another  came.  And  this  one,  having  seen  how  well  the  brazen 
criminal  before  him  had  fared,  thought  to  be  brazen  too.  He  went 
up  therefore,  or  ever  the  charge  was  read,  anigh  unto  Caesar,  and 
smiled  in  his  teeth. 

“Why  grimiest  thou?”  cried  Caesar  in  a  rage. 

“Even  because  I  am  charged  with  having  laughed  at  thee  as  thou 
rodest  about  the  streets.” 

“Didst  thou  laugh?” 

“Yea,  I  laughed,  0  Lord  of  All  this  World.  I  laughed  and 
laughed  again,  and  yet  again  I  laughed.  And  for  this  I  laughed, 
that  thou  didst  say,  ‘I  am  Lord  of  All  this  World.’  ” 

“And  wast  much  amused?” 

“Greatly  amused,  0  Cassar.” 

“Take  him  out,”  cried  the  Lord  of  All  the  World,  in  a  voice  like 
a  thunderbolt.  4  4  Take  out  the  smiling  philosopher,  and  let  him  smile 
head  downward  from  a  cross. — Now,  if  there  be  no  more  appeals 
for  justice  unto  me,  let  us  close  the  day  with  sweet  sacrifice.” 

An  officer  asked,  “To  whom  shall  we  sacrifice?” 

“To  whom?  Askest  thou,  0  officer  of  this  court,  ‘To  whom?’  ” 
He  took  his  dagger,  and  ran  upon  him  that  had  asked  the  question, 
and  stabbed  him  to  the  heart.  “Now  may  the  whole  world  know 
that,  when  Cassar  biddeth  a  sacrifice  be  offered,  it  is  a  sacrifice  unto 
himself. 

“To  the  temple! — Where  is  Sarcogenes?” 


CHAPTER  XXXIX 
The  Left  Hand  of  God 

Now,  in  the  campagna,  which  compasseth  round  about  the  majesty 
and  might  of  Rome,  there  were  shepherds  that  watched  their  flocks, 
and  led  them  in  and  out  among  the  multitudes  of  tombs. 

Two  of  these  men  were  shepherding  their  sheep  in  the  fields  of 
the  Appian  Way — Asper  and  Inhumanus.  Asper  saith  to  Inhumanus, 
“A  many  great  ones  lies  hereabouts.” 

“Thou  sayest  truly,  fool.  And  a  many  of  them  have  been  dead 
a  many  years.” 

“Yea,  and  all  of  them  are  fain  to  be  dead  a  many  more  years 
hereafter  than  yet  they  have  been  dead  in  the  past.” 


A  PROMINENT  MAN 


333 


4 ‘Well  said,  ruffian.  And,  now  I  think  of  it,  what  thou  hast  just 
spat  forth  containeth  a  tid-bit  of  humor.  Thou  didst  not  know  that. 
Come  hither,  sheep.  Come,  I  will  lead  thee,  Grass-eater.  Didst  thou 
think  thou  knewest  more — ” 

‘‘Who  is  he  that  cometh  with  such  enormous  strides?  Not  one 
of  us,  not  one  of  old  Septicollis.  ’ ’ 

“A  man  of  energy,  Ill  be  bound.” 

“Ah,  mushroom,  it  is  Parush,  a  Jew.  I  know  him.  Canst  not 
fool  me.” 

“It  is  not  Parush,”  quoth  the  other,  “not  that  man  which  prayeth 
in  the  Forum  Boarium,  again  on  all  public  bridges,  yea  and  in  the 
very  Basilica  Julia  itself.  I  have  seen  him  on  market-days,  Parush. 
Nay  it  is  not  he,  fool.  Wait.  I  can  remember  this  man’s  name. 
It  is  Alukah.  Also  a  Jew  is  he,  but  named  Alukah,  and  a  very  dif¬ 
ferent,  more  absorbent  kind  of  Jew  than  is  Parush.  Alukah,  the 
horse-leech.  ’  ’ 

Then,  as  the  wind  blew  and  lifted  the  night-black  locks  from  the 
forehead  of  the  striding  Jew,  Asper  crieth  out:  “Well,  by  the  suf¬ 
ferings  in  Hades!  All  Jews  look  alike.  Three  letters!  Let  us  stone 
the  fellow.  See!  Here  be  good-sized  stones.” 

“Caution!  Caution,  fool!” 

“And  so  make  up  for  our  misconceptions.” 

“Caution.  He  looketh  not  like  one  that  might  be  stoned  easily.” 

“We  twain  can  do  it. — Come  hither,  sheep,  the  best  of  the  picking 
is  whither  I  would  guide  thee. — He  hath  heard  us,  and  cometh.” 

“Nay  he  goeth  on  (ye  fool  not  me)  and  heareth  not  either,  for 
his  eyes  are  for  the  city,  and  his  ears  are  with  his  eyes.  He  hath 
ne’er  beheld  the  Mistress  of  the  World  afore,  who  hath  enchained 
him.  See,  he  stumbleth!” 

“Yet  again!” 

And  indeed  the  J ew  did  not  so  much  as  note  that  he  was  stumbling, 
though  he  stumbled  many  a  time  and  heavily  in  that  hour.  For  to 
Simon  of  Cyrene  this  was  the  acme  of  his  life.  That  day  when  the 
earth  did  shake  and  yawn  and  deliver  him  up  from  the  bowels  of 
the  very  Mines  was  not  of  a  surety  so  much  a  day  of  days  as  this 
one.  He  knew  not,  truly,  that  in  far  gone  tertiary  time,  the  waves 
of  the  Great  Sea  had  brake  upon  the  limestone  mountains  even  at 
Cameria.  Nor  that,  in  the  quaternary  epoch,  two  groups  of  vast 
volcanoes  had  arisen  from  the  waters  at  each  end  of  the  bay,  and 
(God  having  spoke  unto  them)  they  belched  forth  seas  of  fire  and 
liquid  stone,  which  slowly  did  dislodge  the  waste  of  waters  back  into 
the  Great  Sea.  And  then  that  the  Tiber  and  the  Anio,  running  from 


334 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


the  mountains  through  the  fire-made  plain,  and  also  into  the  sea, 
channelled  out  ways  and  passages  and  made  the  Roman  Campagna, 
whereon  Rome  might  sit  and  to  which  on  a  day,  a  certain  Simon 
of  Cyrene — 

As  he  passed  a  turn  in  the  road,  behold !  Rome  full  and  splendid 
before  his  astonished  eyes !  Rome !  Majestic  and  marbled  she  stood 
on  her  domineering  hills,  far  above  the  plebeian  landscape,  stacked 
and  pillared,  tier  on  tier,  temple  on  temple,  palace  on  palace,  basilica 
on  basilica,  and  down  around  her  base  an  uneasy  mist,  or  groan- 
filled  smoke,  as  if  she  had  just  arisen  from  the  fires  and  suffocations 
of  Gehenna. 

How  the  massive  buildings  jostled  each  other,  standing  a-tiptoe, 
peering  like  people,  the  one  above  the  next  one’s  shoulders!  What 
did  they  look  at,  all  those  mighty  edifices?  The  channels  of  the 
world’s  trade.  He  would  see  that  vision  for  himself.  Let  him  on. 

A  stone  fell  close  at  his  feet,  and  he  looketh  round,  yet  seeth 
two  shepherds  merely,  pasturing  their  flocks.  Another,  and  he  did 
not  even  withdraw  his  gaze  off  Rome. 

Then  there  began  to  float  into  his  nostrils  the  thick,  curious  smells 
of  the  great  city,  and  the  Jew  rejoiced  much  in  them,  and  expanded 
his  great  lungs,  and  exulted  like  unto  a  horse  eager  to  run  into  battle. 
Such  a  stirring,  of  a  verity,  and  tumbling,  and  confused  uprising 
and  insurgence  of  longings  and  yearnings,  passionate  aspirations  and 
feverish  ambitions,  began  to  take  possession  of  his  soul,  that  he  soon 
perceived  he  really  had  never  been  in  existence  before.  Was  this 
truly  Simon  of  Cyrene?  Was  this  the  simple  shepherd  of  Cyrenaica, 
of  the  holy  fields  round  Migdal  Eder? 

He  beheld  himself  as  the  favorite  of  Caesar,  the  owner  of  a  bril¬ 
liant  palace  (perhaps  like  that  which  Lampadephorus  himself  had 
had  in  Rome)  the  master  of  innumerable  slaves.  His  ships  should 
fly  the  seas  like  troops  of  swallows,  his  caravans  thread  the  desert 
passages  like  swarms  of  ants.  The  world  should  know  of  his  name 
and  tremble  at  his  power,  even  where  the  power  and  the  far-reaching 
name  of  Caesar  were  not  yet  known. 

Now,  as  the  name  of  Caesar  came  into  his  thoughts,  he  began  to 
fear.  He  was  not,  by  his  make,  one  greatly  inclined  to  trepidation, 
thus  forming  in  respect,  say,  unto  a  man  like  Trivialis  so  sharp  and 
astonishing  a  foil.  Yet  as  he  looked  at  the  Mistress  of  the  World 
(which  was,  in  a  manner  of  speaking,  The  World)  and  thought  of 
Ophidion,  the  favorite  of  Caesar,  and  of  Caesar  himself  (whose  mark 
was  even  now  upon  him)  Caesar,  so  jealous  of  his  own  godhead — 


A  PROMINENT  MAN 


335 


And  he,  the  Jew,  a  messenger  from  another  god,  a  God  that  was 
one  and  one  only,  jealous  also  of  His  oneness.  What,  now,  about  that? 

“Ah,  Jehovah, ”  he  said  in  his  heart,  “I  will  live  for  thee  and 
will  ever  love  thee,  even  as  always  heretofore  I  have  loved  thee  and 
have  lived  for  thee.  But  thou  art  very  great,  I  small.  And  Caesar, 
too,  is  great.  And  Ophidion  is  powerful  with  Caesar.” 

Then  the  man  decided  once  for  all,  with  an  iron  determination, 
which  never  in  all  the  coming  years  was  broke,  to  get  him  wealth  and 
power  within  this  city  of  Borne.  “By  the  fears  I  have  felt,”  said  he, 
‘  ‘  by  the  hungers  I  have  endured,  by  the  heat  and  the  cold,  the  innum¬ 
erable  rejections  at  doorways,  the  foul  mockeries,  the  cursings,  the 
stripes,  by — yea,  by  thee  thyself,  0  Adonai,  I  do  swear  that  I  will 
never  testify  if  I  can  help  it  unto  the  heathen  as  concerning  thee. 
Let  the  Nations  by  their  own  great  thinking  find  thee  out.  As  for 
me,  I  must  have  a  watchfulness  over  mine  own  bones.” 

The  cumulus  clouds  above  the  mighty  city  piled  and  re-piled  to 
incredible  heights.  Kindling  and  burning  with  the  inexpressible 
splendor  of  the  ever-brighter  day,  they  wavered,  turned  and  leaned, 
and  slowly  toppled,  until  at  length  they  deeply  dropped  into  some  un¬ 
fathomable  abyss — only,  however,  to  rise  again.  And  again.  And 
yet  again  and  again  and  again  and  again.  And  each  time  higher, 
but  only  to  fall  more  quickly. 

There  were  crumblings  of  thunder,  now  and  then,  among  these 
clouds.  Simon  believed,  for  a  little  space,  that  he  saw  a  rainbow 
high-arched  above  the  farther  hill — the  Palatine. 

Well,  there  was  one  thing  sure.  He  would  specially  put  a  bridle 
on  his  tongue  in  this  city.  Cool  calculation  should  ever  be  his  guide. 
He  would  be  thinking  all  the  while  precisely  as  he  pleased,  but  his 
thoughts  would  remain  unuttered — such,  at  least,  as  might  do  damage 
to  his  purse  and  power.  His  life,  his  deeds,  his  outward  aspect  and 
demeanor,  he  himself,  in  brief,  should  be  the  slave  of  no  emotion. 
His  words  should  be  the  dictates  of  his  intellect  alone. 

“High  o’er  all  the  world 
The  cross  itself  shall  rise !  ’  ’ 

The  words  were  sweetly  sung  by  one  that  was  coming  up  behind 
Simon. 

Simon,  therefore,  turned,  and,  seeing  that  the  man  was  of  fair 
demeanor,  said  unto  him:  “Brother”  (for  he  was  now  a-minded  to 
fellowship  all,  and  to  be,  in  a  way,  like  unto  all). 

But  the  man  said,  “Art  not  thou  Simon  of  Cyrene?” 

“Yea,”  said  Simon,  “I  am  he.” 


336 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


“I  knew  tliee, ”  said  the  fellow,  “by  thy  stature  and  thy  mould 
(for  I  have  heard  of  thee)  and  eke  by  the  word  which  is  on  thy  fore¬ 
head,  and  which  thou  didst  very  well  come  by,  and  which  thou  doest 
well  indeed  to  try  to  conceal — but  canst  not.” 

And  he  marched,  with  a  snap  of  his  fingers,  into  the  Appian  Way, 
and  so  toward  Rome,  leaving  Simon  by  himself. 

But  Simon  said  softly,  “I  will  not  so  much  as  enter  the  city  by 
the  gate  whereby  thou  enterest.” 

He  fetched  a  compass  round  that  portion  of  the  walls,  coming  in 
time  to  the  gate  called  “Esquiline.”  There  he  quickened  his  pace, 
for  the  roar  of  the  city  grew  ever  stronger  in  his  ears,  and  drew 
him  more  and  more.  And  he  beheld  a  row  of  crosses.  Some  of  the 
men  that  were  nailed  thereon  were  dead.  Some  were  corrupted. 
Others  were  fresh  nailed  up,  and  some  of  these  screamed,  some 
laughed,  some  prayed,  some  cursed  and  cursed  again.  Having 
obtained  permission  of  them  that  watched,  he  took  bread  and  wine, 
and  gave  it  to  the  sufferers. 

A  band  of  soldiers  appeared  in  the  gateway,  and  were  coming  out 
of  it.  In  the  midst  thereof  were  many  condemned.  One  of  these 
did  shout,  weeping,  to  a  man  on  a  cross:  “Happy  art  thou,  0 
Juventus  Morens,  for  thou  art  dying.  But  we  go  to  the  Mines  of 
the  Wretched.” 

Thought  Simon,  “Me,  however,  I  have  said  ye  shall  not  take; 
for  I  will  get  me  power,  gold.” 

He  girded  him  tight  up,  and  listening  again  to  the  music  of  the 
strange-smelling  vortex,  Rome,  dived  into  that  million-peopled 
maelstrom. 

A  swan,  bred  on  the  hot,  arid  sands  of  a  desert,  had,  at  length, 
after  numerous  wanderings  among  dry  rocks,  got  into  water. 

He  mingled  at  once,  as  well  as  such  a  man  could  mingle,  with  a 
surging  Roman  crowd  that  went — he  knew  not  whither.  He  shouted 
with  the  rest  of  them,  laughed  with  the  rest  of  them.  There  came 
into  his  wild,  ecstatic  heart,  again  and  yet  again,  even  a  faint,  far 
hope  of  recovering  Amahnah,  Amahnah  as  she  had  been  and  the 
children  as  they  ought  to  be  (Jewish  and  unchristian),  here  in  this 
whirlpool  of  a  Rome,  whereinto  all  sublunary  things  did  later  or 
sooner  ingurgitate. 

And  Simon  wTent  with  the  crowd  by  many  a  winding  street  unto 
a  certain  amphitheatre,  wherein,  as  it  seemed,  the  games  had  already 
begun,  for,  without,  into  many  a  wide  carruca,  the  bodies  of  the  dead 
were  being  grappled  up  by  strong  hooks. 


A  PROMINENT  MAN 


337 


Simon  said  to  one  of  the  Romans  that  were  going  within,  “What 
are  these  that  are  killed?” 

The  man:  “These  are  some  that  have  sinned  against  Caesar. 
For  behold  there  are  games  today  in  honor  of  the  Emperor’s  genius. 
But  Caesar  hath  not  arrived.” 

And  Simon  went  not  in,  but  mingled  with  another  crowd,  and 
went  round  past  the  Circus  Maximus,  and  the  houses  of  gamblers 
and  the  cells  of  prostitutes,  and  many  another  place  of  wild  amuse¬ 
ment  in  that  city.  Then  by  a  slave  market,  and  the  Forum  Boarium, 
where  cattle  were  sold,  and,  after  a  little,  as  he  drew  nigh  the  Palatine, 
he  heard  the  shouting  of  a  distant  multitude :  ‘  ‘  Cagsar !  Hail  Caesar !  ’  ’ 
And  the  crowd  wherewith  he  moved,  stopped  and  shouted  in  return : 
4  ‘  Caesar !  Hail  Caesar !  ’  ’ 

Behold,  Caesar  came.  And  Simon  saw  him,  saw  him  in  all  his 
fatnesses  and  swollen  crudenesses.  And  the  crowd  wherewith  he 
went,  shouted  in  an  ecstasy:  “Hail  Caesar!  Way  for  Caesar!  Make 
way  for  Caesar!”  It  divided  in  the  middle  to  make  clean  road  and 
passage  for  the  Lord  of  All  this  World,  still  crying  continually: 
“Hail  Caesar,  Lord  of  death  and  life!  We  bow  to  thee,  Caesar!  We 
worship  also  thine  images,  thy  genius !  Thou  art  Lord  of  all  that  is.  ’  ’ 

And  many  got  upon  their  knees,  and  others  (which  wished  specially 
for  favors)  fell  down  upon  their  faces  flat,  and  did  grovel. 

Caesar  grinned  in  the  midst  of  all  his  flesh,  and  cried  in  a  kind 
of  pleasurable  swoon:  “My  people,  ye  do  worship  me:  ye  acknowl¬ 
edge  my  godhead.” 

Then  he  saw  Simon  of  Cyrene. 

Long  and  in  earnest  he  looked  at  that  man,  so  that  the  knees  of 
the  Jew  became  water.  Turned  His  Majesty  unto  one  that  Simon 
had  not  till  then  noticed,  one  sitting  in  the  chariot  beside  Caesar,  one 
with  no  more  flesh  on  his  bones  than  is  on  a  skeleton,  and  whose  peaked 
skull  was  bald  and  his  face  like  parchment,  only  full  of  the  wrinkles 
of  a  million  years.  And  both  his  eyes  were  like  gloring  shadows. 
And  Simon  believed  that  he  heard  the  one  word,  “  dimachaerus,  ” 
turn  out  of  Caesar’s  lips.  The  shadowy  eyes  moved  full  upon  Simon, 
and  the  lips  spread  palely  and  yellowly  and  spake  to  Caesar.  But 
the  words  they  uttered  reached  not  Simon. 

Said  Simon  unto  one  that  stood  beside  him,  “Who  is  he  that 
rideth  on  the  seat  beside  Caesar?” 

“That?”  said  the  man.  “That  is  Thanatos,  or  Death.  Behold 
he  hath  heard  thee !  ’  ’ 

And  Thanatos  drew  up  the  hood  of  his  pallium  round  about  his 

head,  and  drew  his  face  deep  within  it.  And  his  face  went  into  the 

22 


338 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


shadow  of  the  hood  until,  as  it  seemed,  there  was  no  face  at  all 
within  the  hood,  or  flesh  or  any  bone,  but  a  mere  empty  nothingness. 

And  the  crowd  followed  after  Caesar  and  his  companion,  Thanatos. 
But  Simon  went  his  own  way. 

He  came,  in  a  certain  hour,  to  the  Roman  Forum,  center  of  trade 
of  all  this  world.  There  he  saw  that,  even  on  this  holiday,  a  many 
still  lingered  round  about. 

Saith  he  to  a  senator  passing,  “Tell  me,  I  pray  thee,  who  are  the 
greatest  of  all  that  trade  and  barter  here.  ” 

Saith  the  senator,  “I  cannot  tell  thee,  for  I  know  not.” 

Again  Simon,  of  a  knight:  “Who,  I  pray  thee,  is  the  greatest 
of  all  that  trade  and  barter  here?” 

Saith  the  knight,  ‘  ‘  Truly,  I  know,  but  dare  not  tell.  Shall  I  offend 
the  others  who  are  great  ?  ’ ’ 

Then  he  asked  of  a  lawyer  and  again  of  a  doctor,  eke  of  a  sophist 
also.  But  each  of  these  answered,  “Now  that  is  a  question  I  have 
never  heard  before,”  and  so  passed  on. 

Came  Simon  to  a  boy  of  the  streets,  one  much  deformed  and  dressed 
in  dusty  rags.  “Tell  me,  I  do  pray  thee,  who  are  the  greatest  of  all 
that  trade  and  barter  in  this  place,  for  to  him  I  would  speak.”  The 
boy  held  out  one  hand,  palm  up,  and  drew  therein  with  a  straight 
forefinger  a  little  circle. 

Simon  therefore  laid  a  penny  in  the  hand,  and  asked  once  more. 

Said  the  boy,  “Come  with  me.  Stand  and  observe.  Seest  thou 
not  that  all  those  traders  are  circled  into  larger  or  smaller  groups? 
Now,  one  of  the  groups  is  larger,  yea  very  much  larger,  than  all  the 
rest  combined.  In  the  center  of  that  group  are  Nummus  and  Praesens 
Pecunia.  They  therefore  are  those  who  are  greatest  of  all  that  trade 
in  the  Forum.” 

Simon  looked  and  saw  that  this  was  true,  for  a  many  that  seemed 
high  prosperous  went  up  before  these  men  like  criminals  before  a 
judge,  pleading,  begging,  supplicating,  even  praying.  Those  whose 
favors  were  granted,  bowed  and  departed  with  many  smiles.  But 
those  whose  favors  w^ere  denied,  passed  from  the  Forum  like  men 
condemned  to  death. 

Simon  :  ‘  ‘  What  art  thou  called  ?  ’  ’ 

“Intelligens,  son  to  Visio  and  Paupertas,  but  wholly  unlike  either. 
I  dwell  in  the  Street  of  the  Humble.  Yale.”  He  was  gone. 

Simon  waited  about  till  the  crowds  dispersed,  and  Nummus 
(Coin)  and  Praesens  Pecunia  (Cash)  were  about  to  step  within  their 
common  litter.  Then  advanced  he  before  them,  saying:  “Lords,  a 


A  PROMINENT  MAN 


339 


stranger,  one  who  would  learn  of  you  the  ways  of  business  and  trade. 
An  apprenticeship  perhaps,  if  it  be  your  will — ” 

Nummus  and  Praesens  Pecunia  looked  upon  the  man,  feeling  for 
him  tender,  mysterious  friendship.  Therefore  said  they,  4 ‘Thou  art 
a  great  man,  but  an  over  humble.  ” 

Said  Simon,  “I  have  known  misfortune. ’ ’  He  waited  while  the 
masters  of  the  Forum  studied  him  yet  further. 

At  length  said  Nummus,  “We  do  know  thee  not:  it  is  settled/’ 

But  Praesens  Pecunia  was  not  quite  so  hard.  Said  he,  “Thou 
wouldst  not,  I  am  sure,  be  content  with  any  small,  simple  clerkship 
in  our  argentaria.  Yonder  is  the  sign  of  our  place,  in  the  great 
Basilica’s  side— NUMMUS  AND  PRAESENS  PECUNIA,  ARGEN- 
TARII.  All  the  world  trembles  when  it  hears —  But — to  a  test  of 
thee.  I  have  it.  We  are  not,  at  present,  in  high  favor  with  our 
sovereign  [whispering]  Caesar.  Art  thou  meant  for  man  of  business, 
thou ’It  find  a  way — a  method  whereby  to  get  us  a  concession,  secure 
again  for  us  the  favor  of  Caesar.  Enough.  Farewell.” 

But  Simon  laid  strong  hands  upon  the  litter,  that  the  slaves  could 
not  on  with  it,  so  that  Nummus  and  Praesens  Pecunia  marvelled.  And 
even  as  Jacob  of  old  would  not  let  the  angel  go  till  that  he  had  blessed 
the  Jew,  so,  here  also,  Simon  of  Cyrene  would  not  suffer  the  litter  of 
Nummus  and  Praesens  Pecunia  to  proceed  from  the  Forum,  till  he 
had  gotten  a  promise  from  their  lips. 

“And  ye — if  I  get  you  the  favor  out  of  Caesar,  will  ye  then  take 
me  as  your  partner  into  your  argentaria?” 

“Yea,  at  a  third  of  the  value  of  the  business — for  we  must  have 
again  the  countenance  of  Caesar — the  which  we  have  lately  lost. — But 
that  thou  canst  not  do  for  us,  else  we  could  do  it  for  ourselves.” 

Simon  let  them  go,  both  Nummus  and  Praesens  Pecunia,  for  his 
head  was  whirling  to  inventive  thought. 

He  ran  about  the  Forum  like  a  distracted  person. 

Then  perceived  he  that  the  multitudes  were  returning  from  the 
games.  Thought  he:  “Now  Caesar  will  be  got  back  home,  I  will  see 
what  I  can  do.” 

He  therefore  went  to  the  Palatine,  and  up  to  Caesar’s  domus. 
There  the  way  was  blocked  by  a  giant,  which  said  his  name  was 
“Obstans,  ”  and  which  guarded  the  portal  of  the  palace.  A  mighty 
spear  held  he  in  his  hand,  the  which  a  common  man  could  hardly 
lift  up  from  the  ground. 

Now  Simon  took  the  giant,  and  bent  him  to  the  earth,  and  bound 
him  foot  and  hand  to  his  own  spear,  and  flung  him  across  his  shoulder, 


340 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


and  so  carried  him,  fast,  before  high  Caesar.  For  he  thought,  ‘  ‘  Caesar 
will  have  to  give  me  attention,  so.” 

And  Caesar,  puffing  and  purpling,  wTas  shouting  unto  a  many  that 
timidly  stood  round  about  him:  “My  power!  Oh  my  power!  Ye 
would  take  it  from  me.  Brambles  and  dogs!  I  have  made  you  all 
companions,  and  yet  ye  would  take  my  power  away.  See !  The  very 
argentarii  refuse  to  fill  my  coffers  more,  and  the  people  withhold  from 
me  further  taxes.  What  shall  little  Caesar  do,  he  that  is  believed  to 
rule  the  winds  encompassing  the  earth  ?  Shall  he  spit  money  ?  Either 
bankers  or  people — nowhere  else.  And  the  people  are  with  the 
soldiers.  And  ye  with  all  of  them!  Ah  damned  ‘yeM  Oh  I  am  woe, 
I  am  woe.” 

So  he  buried  his  face  in  his  fat  hands,  and  shook  the  mountains 
of  his  corpulency. 

He  looked  again  at  his  companions,  asking  in  a  small,  piping  voice : 
“Have  I  done  you  wrong,  good  sirs?  If  so,  admonish  me.  Caesar  is 
ever  willing  to  learn  of  his  friends  whenever  he  hath  done  wrong. 
Hath  he  levied  too  great  taxes  ?  Do  the  people  refuse  to  pay  further  ? 
Must  he  cut  the  court  expenses  ?  Come  hither,  sirrah.  Thou  answerest 
not  me.  Then  I  have  wronged  thee  not. — Throw  him  to  the  lions. 
Away !  No  mercy !  I  say,  ‘  no  mercy,  ’  and  I  yet  am  Caesar.  Him 
also — him  also  throw.  My  people  I  fear  in  the  multitude,  not  by 
scores  or  dozens.  No,  no :  to  the  lions !  None  of  all  these  fit  to  be 
gladiators — even  today  at  the  games  there  were  none.  So — ” 

Through  the  tail  of  his  eye  he  caught  one  glimpse  of  Simon,  hold¬ 
ing  the  giant  over  his  shoulder,  bounden  tight  to  his  own  great  spear. 

Ceasing  to  speak,  Caesar  turned  slowly  round. 

With  ever-widening  eyes  gazed  he  on  Simon. 

“By  mine  own  divinity!”  As  happy  he  looked  as  a  sweet  child. 
“Thanatos!  Art  thou  here,  Thanatos?  Look!  What  is  thy  name? 
Art  the  sort  of  gladiator  I  long  have  sought.  Wilt  not  die  for — 
Who?  Simon  of  Cyrene?  Well  enough.  Long  ago  heard  I  concerning 
thee  by  the  pen  of  Lampadephorus.  And  they  that  brought  the  letters 
unto  me,  there  was  fraud  in  them  both.  Them  therefore  I  executed. 
I  saw  thee  also  upon  the  street  this  day.  Gods!  DimachaBrus!  Wilt 
not  die  for  me  ?  Fighter — both  hands !  I  love  thee.  ’  ’ 

Then  cast  Simon  of  Cyrene  the  giant  hurtling  away.  And  stand¬ 
ing  at  a  little  remove  from  the  Great  Ideal  Sinner,  the  Glutton  of 
Blood,  he  said  to  him:  “I  fear  thou  dost  not  wholly  understand 
me,  0  Caesar.” 

Caesar  frowned.  But  Simon  quaked  not.  “There  was  once,”  said 
he,  “a  mouse  which  assisted  a  lion.” 


A  PROMINENT  MAN 


341 


Then  Caesar  smiled. 

‘ ‘Give  me  thy  countenance,  0  Caesar,  thy  beneficent  patrocinium, 
to  be  a  man  of  business  in  thy  name,  and  under  thy  protection,  and 
I  will  hand  over  unto  thee  on  the  very  morrow  ten  millions  of 
sestertia.  For  I,  unlike  thy  people,  am  not  ungrateful.  Believe  me, 
O  Caesar,  I  am  not  ungrateful  at  all.” 

“Hast  thou  money,  man?” 

“None.” 

Then  laid  back  Caesar  his  fat  head,  and  placing  his  pulpy 
hands  upon  his  swollen  stomach,  laughed  in  intolerable  silence.  He 
straightened  forth,  and  roared. 

“Sirrah!  Sirrah!”  It  was  like  the  voice  of  a  devil  from  the 
throat  of  a  hippopotamus.  “Thou  art  insane.  How  canst  thou 
bring  me,  fool,  a  fabulous  treasure,  seeing  thou  hast  no  money?” 

4  ‘  That,  0  Caesar,  is  the  thing  I  must  know.  Shall  Caesar,  from  his 
tribunal,  descend  to  talk  of  business,  of  pennies  ?  Shall  not  his  people, 
rather,  raise  for  him  whatsoever  thing  he  needeth,  asking  but  his 
countenance  alone?” 

Caesar  smiled  a  sweet,  fatuous  smile.  After  arising,  he  said: 
“Walk  with  me.  To  the  stables.  The  rest  of  you  follow  at  some 
distance.  ’  ’ 

He  took  the  Jew  and  led  him  to  a  place  where  one  was  painting 
the  hoofs  of  horses,  and  another  was  gathering  up  the  dung  of 
Caesar’s  favorite  steed  into  a  silver  basket.  Caesar  said  to  Simon — 

“Thou  mayest  speak  now.” 

Saw  Simon  that  he  durst  go  no  further  with  his  secrecy.  Said 
he,  “Who  is  there  can  keep  anything  from  thine  ears,  0  Caesar? 
My  plan  was  this.  I  had  truly  nothing  at  all.  But  Nummus  and 
Praesens  Pecunia  did  require  (as  I  chanced  to  learn)  for  high  success 
thine  imperial  countenance.  Thou,  upon  the  other  hand,  didst  truly 
need  the  millions  thy  people  would  not  further  surrender  up  unto 
thee,  being  ungrateful  to  thee  that  thou  art  Caesar.  Here  come  in  I, 
saying  to  the  bankers:  ‘Nummus  and  Praesens  Pecunia,  here  is  for 
thee  Caesar’s  countenance.’  Then  unto  thee,  Caesar:  ‘Caesar,  Lord  of 
all  This  World,  behold  thy  coins  on  which  thine  image  rests,  and 
which  thy  people  would  not  yield  up  unto  thee,  being  ungrateful; 
but  now  they  are  thine  again.” 

“And  thou!”  whispered  Caesar.  “Where  cometh  in  thy  profit? 
Thinkest  thou  I  am  simple  ?  ’  ’ 

‘  ‘  Nummus  and  Praesens  Pecunia  have  promised  me,  ’  ’  said  Simon, 
“if  I  do  bring  to  them  thy  countenance,  thy  fast  and  durable  counte¬ 
nance  in  their  work  and  trade,  that  then  they  will  surrender  unto 


342 


SIMON  OF  GYRENE 


me,  as  a  pure  gift,  a  third  part  in  their  business.  And  thinkest  thou, 
O  Caesar,  that  I,  once  thou  hast  made  me  great — ” 

“It  is  enough.  Let  me  think.  Thou  art —  Yes,  thou  wouldst 
ever  be  grateful.  Let  me  think.  I  could  always  get  money  from 
thee  when  I  would.  Thou  wouldst  ever  have  it,  then.  Remarkable. 
Thou  art  a  remarkable —  Thou  hast  a  great  head  for  business.  So 
thou  seekest  to  be  a  money-maker!  Wouldst  not  die  for  me,  rather, 
upon  the  sand?” 

“See,  0  Caesar,  I  have  no  quality  as  dimachaerus  at  all,  being 
only  a  simple  shepherd  that  now  would  change  his  occupation  into 
that  of  a  man  of  business  and  trade.” 

“By  Hercules,  Simon  of  Cyrene,  if  thou  canst  change  to  that  then 
thou  canst  change  to  yet  a  better  also— a  dimachaerus.  A  most 
remarkable  head  for  business,  all  the  same.  I  have  half  a  mind — 
By  all  the  pains  of  the  world,  had  thy  plan  occurred  to  me,  Caesar, 
I  believe  I  should  have  adopted  it.  But  no:  it  is  thine.  Troops!” 

Troops  came,  a  many  of  them,  and  Caesar  gave  them  charge  that 
they  should  take  the  Jew  into  the  school  of  a  certain  lanista,  San- 
guinarius,  who  should  render  the  Jew  instruction  how  he  might 
prepare  to  die  for  Caesar  on  the  bloody  sand. 


CHAPTER  XL 

The  Man  Who  Could  Not  Fail 

As  Caesar  ordered,  so  it  was  done. 

And  Sanguinarius  was  a  favorite  of  Caesar.  Yet  would  Simon 
of  Cyrene  not  learn  of  him  (already  he  had  learned  of  Lampadephorus 
in  better  ways)  and  he  pretended  to  be  ignorant  and  wholly  unable 
to  master  the  use  of  swords. 

Then,  on  a  day,  when  Sanguinarius,  seeing  that  Simon  would 
not  learn,  and  dreading  the  judgment  of  Caesar,  when  that  he  should 
find  the  Jew  had  made  no  progress,  went  up — this  filthy  giant — unto 
Simon,  and  gave  him  foul  words,  and  saith  unto  him:  “See!  there 
lie  two  pointless  swords.  Take  thou  them  up,  and  fight  as  dimachaerus, 
even  in  the  way  I  have  shown  thee,  else  will  I  master  thee  and  kill 
thee,  yea  with  this  very  sword  which  I  hold  and  which  hath  a  point. 
Fight.” 

But  Simon  ran  unto  a  statue  (one  of  those  which  stood  within  the 
schola,  file  on  file)  a  statue  of  Mercury.  And  he  ripped  it  from  its 
great  base,  and  swinging  it  round  his  shoulders,  cried:  “Aggressor 
am  not  I,  yet  tempt  me  not.” 


A  PROMINENT  MAN 


343 


And  Sanguinarius  and  a  many  of  the  other  gladiators  which  were 
there,  at  bloody  training,  ran  straight  at  the  Jew. 

And  he  beat  them  small  as  the  dnst  before  the  wind. 

And  he  killed  Sanguinarius,  both  him  and  many  others  of  the 
mighty  gladiators — Furor,  Strongyllion,  Clarus,  Preelarus,  Celeber, 
and  Celebratus.  But  Sanguinarius  was  the  chief  lanista  and  super¬ 
visor  of  the  school. 

And  Simon’s  heart  was  as  wax,  for  he  saw  he  had  killed  many 
favorites  of  Caesar. 

Yet  thought  he,  “Who  is  this  Caesar  that  I  should  fear  him?” 

So  he  ran  straightway  to  the  house  upon  the  Palatine.  And  they 
which  stood  at  guard  before  the  door  made  way,  remembering  the 
fate  of  Obstans.  And  the  Jew  rushed  up  to  Caesar,  crying:  “I  have 
killed  thy  favorite,  Sanguinarius,  also  Furor,  Strongyllion,  Clarus, 
Preelarus,  Celeber  and  Celebratus,  eke  many  another  gladiator  also. 
For  these,  they  would  have  killed  me,  inasmuch  as  I  could  not  learn 
to  use  the  sword.  And  being  set  upon,  I  did  kill  them.  Even  with 
the  statue  of  great  Mercury,  which  stood  within  the  hall,  killed  I 
them!  0  mighty  Caesar!  Mercy!” 

Then  said  Caesar,  softly:  “Thou  killedst  Sanguinarius!  San¬ 
guinarius  dead!  Was  ever  anyone  that  could  kill  Sanguinarius? 
Statue  of  Mercury?  What  sayest  thou?  Mercury?  That  statue — I 
remember —  ’  ’ 

Simon  answered  him  and  said,  “Even  as  I  have  declared  to  thee, 
O  Caesar,  so  it  was  done.” 

And  Caesar  adjudged  him,  saying:  “I  love  thee  for  thy  might, 
but  hate  thee  for  the  things  thou  hast  done  therewith.  Get  thee  out 
of  here.  Let  me  not  see  thee  more.  Thy  case  I  take  under  advise¬ 
ment.  ’  ’ 

Now  Simon  beheld  that  he  had  received  a  kind  of  pardon,  but 
only  for  this  that  he  had  been  bloodier  than  Sanguinarius.  Moreover, 
he  had  no  patrocinium  either  for  Nummus  or  for  Praesens  Pecunia,  or 
any  money  or  advantage  for  himself.  He  therefore  gat  him  not  upon 
the  Forum,  but  into  the  lower  streets  and  passages  of  the  city.  Turn¬ 
ing  a  corner,  he  came  straightforth  on  a  prophecy — a  great  procession 
of  wagons,  each  with  a  cage  of  Numidian  lions,  or  it  might  be  Hyrca- 
nian  tigers,  leopards  from  Pontus,  or  hippopotami  from  Egypt.  He 
sank  within  a  doorway,  and  the  bellowing  symbols  of  Caesar’s  blood- 
lust  went  on  their  way  to  the  great  vivarium  (never  to  be  wholly 
tilled)  beneath  the  amphitheatre. 

What  a  pleasure  unto  Caesar ! 

And  every  day  or  two,  as  he  had  known,  a  similar  procession 


344 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


moved  from  tlie  Tiber,  of  beasts  that  had  come  from  the  seaport, 
Ostia,  thither  out  of  savage  portions  of  the  earth — unto  the  center 
of  this  whole  world’s  civilization. 

“ Caesar,  thou  hast  a  glorious  world!  It  is  thine.’ ’ 

The  feeling  of  a  stranger  in  a  strange  land  came  over  Simon  of 
Cyrene.  Yet  no  whit  stranger  was  he  here  in  Rome,  thought  he,  than 
he  had  felt  himself  to  be,  long,  long  before,  in  the  fields  of  Bethlehem 
and  Migdal  Eder.  How  then  was  that?  Had  he,  Simon,  never  had 
a  home  ?  God ’s  priest — no  home !  What  a  world  for  priest  of  God ! 
Christ  also,  he  had  not— 

‘  ‘  It  is  thy  world,  0  Caesar !  It  is  not  thy  world,  0  priest  of  God.  ’  ’ 

He  gained  the  mouth  of  a  street  between  long,  low  houses  which 
crowded  round  about  the  river  front.  And  he  went  up  upon  the  bank 
of  the  Tiber. 

Thence  he  gazed  down  at  the  dun-colored  stream.  Sombre  and 
silent  the  river  moved  on,  in  its  ordained  way  to  the  mighty  ocean. 

“It  is  thy  world,  0  Caesar.” 

The  noise  of  the  howling  beasts  had  become  a  distant  roar,  like 
that  of  a  wind  which  is  gone  but  still  groaneth. 

“It  is  thy  world,  0  Cassar.”  The  river  looked  cool  and  inviting, 
filled  with  deep  forgetfulness  of  the  fever  which  men  call  life.  A 
single  plunge —  “Thy  world!”  He  laughed  to  think  how  his  own 
mere,  insignificant  will  could  defeat  the  will  of  Jehovah,  could,  at  the 
same  very  stroke,  drown  that  insignificant,  yet  all-defeating,  will. 
Aloud  cried  he,  “I  will  do  it.  I  will  defeat  the  very  God  of  all  this 
universe.  ’  ’ 

“But  not  of  us,”  cried  voices. 

And  he  turned,  and  beheld  approaching  even  the  forms  of  Num- 
mus  and  Praesens  Pecunia. 

“Foolish  fellow!”  cried  they,  “when  we  have  so  much  of  pleasure 
for  thee  yet.  Nay,  speak  not.  We  have  heard,  heard  all — both  as 
concerning  thee  and  thy  Jehovah  and  also  as  concerning  Caesar  and 
thee.  But  that  was  a  splendid  scheme  of  thine,  and  not  the  product 
of  any  foolish  head.  Not  thou,  but  Caesar — Caesar  was  the  foolish 
man. 

“Come,  we  will  help  thee.  Thou  art  of  our  kind.  A  bag  across 
the  shoulder — out  among  the  peasants  of  the  Campagna.  They  need 
many  things.  They  will  make  thee  prosperous.  Come.  They  know 
not  how  to  buy.  Come.  Thou  canst  learn  the  way  of  trading.  Come. 
Away!  Come.  A  bag!  Come.  Prosperity!  Come.” 

Therefore,  see,  upon  a  day,  Simon  of  Cyrene,  priest  to  the  Lord 


A  PROMINENT  MAN 


345 


of  all  This  Universe,  doing  His  will  amid  the  peasants  of  the  Cam- 
pagna,  with  a  bag  across  the  shoulders,  flitting  here,  flitting  there. 

And  his  steps  were  not  confined  to  the  near  and  soft  Champaigns 
of  Greatest  Ease.  He  set  a  stout  heart  to  the  rugged  path  over  the 
distant  Hills  of  Difficulty,  and  on  across  the  volcanic  seas  of  Sheer 
Exhaustion,  went  down  into  the  Valley  of  Despair  and  drank  of  its 
bitter  waters,  and  on  and  on,  until  he  had  passed  over  the  ridge, 
incredibly  remote,  which  divides  Failure  from  Success. 

But  ever  with  varying  fortunes  he  plodded. 

And  he  failed  again. 

And  then  he  gathered  dust,  and  cast  it  on  his  head,  and  cursed 
the  day  on  which  he  was  born,  and  lay  down  and  grovelled,  and  arose 
and  went  again  on  his  conquering  way. 

Many  a  passerby  believed  that  the  man  was  poor  in  spirit.  But 
lo,  his  heart  was  as  an  all-consuming  flame. 

Way  for  God’s  priest! 

He  learned  to  read  the  masks  and  minds  of  men.  The  comic  mask, 
the  tragic  mask,  the  mask  of  infidelity,  of  treason,  of  pity,  of  friend¬ 
ship,  lechery,  scholarship,  high  thought,  and  pure  trust — he  learned  to 
read,  to  know  them  all.  The  souls  of  men  stood  forth  naked  and 
alone  in  the  presence  of  him,  Simon  of  Cyrene. 

A  simple  bagman,  selling  combs  and  gewgaws! 

He  dreamed  at  night  (not  only  in  the  day)  of  scales  and  bales, 
the  loading  and  discharging  of  unimagined  quantities  of  goods: 
grain  and  wine,  ivory  and  frankincense,  weapons  and  horses,  furs 
and  fabrics.  He  had  fleets  of  many-oared  ships,  caravans  of  Bactrian 
camels  and  dromedaries  of  Anatolia.  He  almost  wore  his  fingers  out, 
even  in  his  sleep,  counting  profits. 

Then,  awaking,  he  would  swallow  a  crust  of  bread,  shoulder  his 
pedlar’s  bag,  and  be  off  to  far-away  spots. 

At  length,  for  fear  of  arousing  people’s  suspicions,  he  entered  no 
farther  than  their  doors,  unless  specially  invited  so  to  do.  He  had 
had  experiences. 

“Combs  and  dolls!  Trinkets  and  gewgaws!  Combs  and  dolls! 
Trinkets  and  gewgaws!” 

Gay  and  light  must  the  wares  have  seemed  to  Simon’s  purchasers, 
but  heavy  and  black  unto  the  Jew,  heavy  and  black  on  endless,  foot¬ 
sore,  dusty  days.  Yet  ever  and  again  he  beheld  with  a  vivid  and  too 
sharp  inner  eye,  the  Mines,  the  lions,  the  endless  files  of  crosses,  and 
kept  steadily  on.  Night  after  night  he  plodded,  under  the  prophetic 
constellations,  day  after  day  sought  market  for  his  simple  wares.  A 
rough  enough  life  he  led,  too,  knocking  about  the  country  at  all  sea- 


346 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


sons,  at  midnight  and  at  sunrise,  in  torturing  heat  or  spiteful  hail,  or 
intolerant  blast  that  blew  his  boxes  all  about  the  road :  sleeping  some¬ 
times  in  thief-infested  inns,  holding  the  door  against  robbers,  sharing 
at  times  the  bed  of  a  slave,  or,  somewhat  better,  the  fold  of  a  sheep, 
or,  somewhat  worse,  the  stalls  of  cattle  and  the  styes  of  hogs — this 
Simon  of  Cyrene  and  of  Calvary,  the  cross-bearer  of  Christ.  He  was 
doing  well  if  he  got  back  into  Rome  for  the  Sabbath.  Sometimes  he 
was  doing  remarkably  well  to  get  back  home  at  all.  The  world  was 
against  him  on  the  right  hand  and  on  the  left.  The  only  persons 
that  ever  would  walk  beside  him  were  Labor,  Sorrow  and  Care.  Oh 
yes!  Nummus  and  Praesens  Pecunia  were  always  glad  to  see  him 
back  in  Rome.  Now  and  then  they  had  embraces  for  him. 

There  began,  about  this  time,  a  strange  dissension  in  Simon’s 
emotional  make-up.  His  old  outspoken  and  strongly  aggressive  na¬ 
ture  was  continually  quarreling  with  his  second  nature,  that  of 
shrewdness  and  sly  caution.  He  was  one  moment  frankly  denuncia¬ 
tory  and,  the  next,  subtly  apologetic.  There  came,  at  length,  to  be  two 
kinds  of  writhing  demons  of  emotion  within  him — the  conciliatory 
and  the  pugnacious. 

Sometimes,  when  he  was  alone,  these  devils  of  contrary  disposition 
struggled  with  each  other  during  long  hours  for  the  mastery  over 
him.  Anon  the  one,  anon  the  other,  prevailed.  And  again,  they 
would  struggle,  both  of  them,  in  vain;  for,  at  the  close  of  the  fight, 
he  would  (as  if  moved  by  an  inexplicable  power  which  came  upon 
him  from  without)  perform  the  bidding  of  neither  of  these  twain 
portions  of  his  soul,  but  carry  out  some  plan  of  which,  thitherto,  he 
had  been  hardly  conscious  at  all.  Or,  the  outward  power  would  join 
itself  to  one  or  the  other  of  the  inward  two,  and  behold — an  incon¬ 
testable  (but  not  enduring)  victory! 

He  was  a  great  reasoner  in  his  way,  about  this  time  of  his  life,  but 
sometimes  he  had  no  head  at  all  for  argument,  only  a  blunt  sense, 
an  erratic  impulse,  a  blundering  sort  of  instinct,  which,  ofttimes,  led 
him,  or  drew  him,  or  incontinently  and  most  imperiously  dragged 
him,  spite  of  himself,  to  speak  concerning  matters  which  he  had  rather 
have  kept  concealed,  caused  him  to  give  some  deep  offense  where  he  had 
rather  by  far  have  practiced  supplication  only — thus  forever  keep¬ 
ing  him  a  man  apart,  howsoever  much  he  might  desire  and  strive  to 
be  lost  in  the  general  multitude,  to  commingle  with  and  become  a 
homogeneous  and  indistinguishable  portion  of  it.  It  is  a  terrible 
thing  for  any  man  to  be  taught  the  absolute  truth  about  himself,  to 
be  shown  what  he  really  is,  and  many  a  personage  in  Italy  was  shown 
by  Simon  of  Cyrene,  in  those  untutored  outbursts,  the  deeps  of  his 


A  PROMINENT  MAN 


347 


own  bad  heart,  as  a  shimmering  wave  of  heat  lightning  in  the  night 
reveals  with  startling  distinctness  thitherto  unsuspected  gulfs  within 
the  far  deeps  of  a  distant  cloud.  Ah,  Simon  of  Cyrene,  whether  thou 
didst  endeavor  to  reason,  or  whether,  before  thou  spakest,  thou  liadst 
emotional  turmoils  deep  within  thee,  in  either  of  these  cases,  thou 
wouldst  sometimes  speak — the  truth.  Even  as  the  prophets  of  old,  so 
spakest  thou,  and,  like  them,  thou  sufferedst  in  consequence  of  the 
speaking. 

Spite  of  his  blundering  and  forthright  blurting  out,  there  came 
to  Simon,  ofttimes,  as  we  have  said  before,  floods  of  prosperity,  when  it 
seemed  that  now  at  last  his  worldly  welfare  was  adequately,  securely, 
and  perpetually  confirmed.  Yet,  ever,  at  the  very  crest,  appeared 
some  kind  of  crisis,  or  turn,  a  great  reversal,  a  suction,  an  undertow, 
an  exceedingly  subtle,  but  apparently  foreordained  and  wholly  irresis¬ 
tible  ebbing — and  alas  then  for  God’s  priest.  Ophidion,  as  Simon 
knew,  was  often  responsible  for  these  changes.  Ophidion,  the  friend 
of  the  Emperor.  Yet,  in  his  heart,  Caesar  had  also  a  place  for  the 
Jew.  Simon  knew  that.  He  counted  on  it.  There  would  come  a 
day— 

Then  again  he  sometimes  thought  that,  in  a  spot  off  and  away  in 
infinite  space,  there  must  be  some  great,  unpitying  power,  an  omnipo¬ 
tent  and  evil  intelligence,  laughing  heedlessly  at  all  things  Simonian, 
all  things  Jewish,  all  things  human,  or  mundane,  or  even  anywhere 
at  all  existent. 

Yet  ever  he  kept  at  work;  hard  at  work,  hard  at  work.  Dreams 
set  off  a  little  to  one  side  again!  Money  to  be  made  once  more. 
Money,  money,  money.  Money  everywhere!  He  saw  money  on  each 
bush  and  bramble,  in  the  trees,  in  the  rocks  of  the  hills  and  the  leaves 
of  the  forest,  on  the  sheeps’  backs,  all  over  the  Campagna,  down  in 
the  subpelagian  deeps  of  the  city,  then  out  over  Italy  again,  and  all 
the  waiting  world! 

Often  when  nearly  a  risen  man  once  more,  some  enemy  of  his 
from  Spain  or  Gaul,  or  Germany,  or  far  Cyrenaica,  or  Egypt,  would 
hinder  his  plans,  or  totally  block  them.  And  all  that  was  in  his  heart 
at  times  like  these,  may  no  other  man  know. 

This  much,  however,  we  may  take  as  settled  for  certain :  Simon 
of  Cyrene  (even  more  than  when  he  was  in  the  Mines)  became  almost 
a  maniac  for  everything  that  dazzles,  or  blazes,  or  glitters,  or  glares, 
or  shines,  or  sparkles,  or  twinkles.  And  he  lusted  for  the  touch  of 
silken  garments,  the  feel  of  polished  gems,  the  odors  of  lily  or  rose,  of 
frankincense,  nard,  musk.  The  music  of  lutes  and  flutes  he  longed 
for,  panting;  and  joyous,  triumphant  song.  He  was  well-nigh  crazed 


348 


SIMON  OF  GYRENE 


for  high  magnificence,  irresistible  power.  Ah  Caesar,  have  a  care! 
There  is  out  in  the  Campagna  a  beggar  (or,  much  the  same,  a  bag- 
man)  who  will  not  always  carry  boxes  in  a  bag. 

Now  the  pedlar-king,  whenever  he  found  it  possible,  made  back 
into  the  city  on  every  Sabbath  eve,  the  lonesome  city,  which  drew 
him  more  and  more  with  a  terrible  fascination,  not  merely  as  a  place 
to  hail  from,  but  as  a  nest,  a  solemn  and  steady  abiding  place,  a 
home,  a  place  where  unlimited  money  was,  also.  If  only  a  strong  man 
could  get  strong  hands  upon  that  money,  hands  of  righteousness  of 
course ! 

By  little  and  little,  his  trade  was  more  and  more  within  the 
city.  In  the  change  he  was  greatly  aided  by  laws  enacted  at  the 
cruel  suggestion  of  Ophidion.  It  pleased  God  to  afflict  His  servant 
in  this  way  and  so  to  drive  him  into  Rome,  to  make  him  there  a 
fixture  and  a  stone  of  knowing.  Might  any  one  (at  length)  imagine 
that,  in  Rome,  there  could  be  no  Simon  of  Cyrene? 

He  plied  in  the  streets  as  porter,  but  it  suited  him  not.  And  yet 
he  must  live  by  some  disgraceful  occupation,  for  ever  the  hand  of 
Ophidion  went  forth  to  afflict  him.  Peddling,  garbage-picking,  shop¬ 
keeping  in  the  Trans-Tiber,  or  else  in  the  borders  of  the  dark  Subura, 
money-lending — oh,  very  well !  He  opened  a  tiny  shop  in  a  place 
where  many  people  came  and  went.  Pie  rose  again.  He  got  him  a 
bigger  shop.  He  lent  much  moneys  even  on  the  Roman  Forum. 
From  many  an  old  dust-heap  he  gathered  gold  unstintedly,  and  out 
of  cold  ashes  he  made  hot  fires. 

He  had  now  his  own  bankers,  at  home  and  abroad,  his  own  ship¬ 
pers,  ship-captains,  money-changers,  commissioners,  tasters,  contrac¬ 
tors,  buyers,  builders,  warehouse  managers  and  inspectors,  caravan- 
leaders,  camel  breeders,  dock-masters,  granary  superintendents,  and 
quarry-  and  mine-masters.  In  addition  he  indirectly  set  to  useful 
employment  many  multitudes  of  lesser  men.  Plis  caravans  wound 
from  Egypt  to  the  Valley  of  the  Euphrates,  and  on  to  the  Walls 
of  China  and  the  Infinite  Ocean.  And  there  came  to  Rome  con¬ 
tinually  abundant  treasures  which  were  his:  tin  from  Cornwall, 
amber  out  of  Saxony,  the  linen  and  the  wool  of  Phoenicia  and  the 
purple  apparel  of  Sidon,  yea  and  silver  bars  out  of  Gades  and  gold 
from  the  Mines  of  the  Wretched,  which  are  in  unforgotten  Spain. 

Some  cursed  him  privily,  others  reviled  him  openly.  He  was 
feared  by  all  but  one  or  two — among  the  exceptions,  Seneca. 

He  became  so  important  at  length  that  the  drawers  of  graffiti 
(those  cruel  caricatures  upon  the  many  house-  and  garden- walls  of 
Rome)  began  to  show  him  up  (with  his  name  attached)  in  the  center 


A  PROMINENT  MAN 


349 


of  an  enormous  spider-web.  There  he  sat,  red-eyed  and  watchful, 
features  (which  were  more  like  those  of  Alukah  than  his  own)  dis¬ 
torted  in  lust  for  gain,  full-bodied,  ready  at  a  moment’s  notice  to 
pull  the  threads  which  ran  to  suffering  flies — Egyptians,  Spaniards, 
Germans,  Gauls,  and  so  on.  Again  he  was  shown  worshipping  a 
golden  calf.  Beneath  the  picture:  “ Simon  of  Gyrene.  He  hath 
never  quit  it.” 

Yet  again  he  was  pictorially  united  with  Caesar  himself,  the  Euler 
of  All  This  World,  and  A  Man  Most  Jealous  of  His  Absolute  Power. 
There  sate  Caesar  on  his  lofty  throne,  while,  down  before  him  in  the 
dust,  Simon  of  Cyrene,  a-grovelling,  was  handing  up  a  bag  entitled 
“ Pennies  of  the  Poor.”  Near  by,  a  disconsolate  woman  and  her 
children  wept  wretchedly.  Sometimes  he  himself  was  shown  upon 
the  throne,  while  Caesar,  in  the  guise  of  a  beggar,  grovelled  before 
HIM,  Simon.  This  was  the  picture  which  Simon  of  Cyrene  dreaded 
most.  It  might  have  consequences. 

It  did,  in  fact,  have  consequences,  it  or  something  else,  or  many 
things  combined.  Who  knows?  The  Jew  was  ruined.  He  went  and 
looked  at  the  Tiber  again,  and  again  came  Nummus  and  Praesens 
Pecunia  and  talked  with  him,  and  rescued  him,  and  said  unto  him : 
“Why  goest  thou  not  into  the  Trans-Tiber?  It  is  there  thou  be- 
longest,  there  with  thy  people.  Keep  thou  to  thyself.” 

So  into  the  Trans-Tiber  he  went  (this  Simon  of  the  ever-return¬ 
ing  energies)  into  the  Trans-Tiber,  that  earliest  of  the  absolute  ghettos 
which  the  world  has  known.  After  all,  he  was  an  outcast,  a  waif,  a 
strawr  upon  Life’s  current.  At  least,  he  should  be  among  his  own 
people,  in  the  ghetto,  and  should  always  be  on  hand  of  Sabbath  eves. 
Anyway,  what  difference  which  way  he  went,  or  where  he  lived? 

All  possible  difference,  0  Simon  of  Cyrene.  The  Lord  hath  need 
of  thee  in  Rome,  and  will  keep  thee  there,  and  hew  thee  yet  a  little 
further  to  His  liking.  He  hath  His  own  plans  and  purposes,  He  that 
neither  slumbers  nor  sleeps. 

So,  into  the  ghetto,  where  the  streets  were  more  like  damp,  dark 
and  noisome  caverns  than  any  thoroughfares  of  men  should  be — 
caverns  long  drawn  out  and  interlacing  intricately  and  intermin¬ 
ably.  Labor,  Sorrow,  and  Care  were  still  beside  that  Simon  of 
Cyrene  in  those  caverns,  and  Pestilence  also,  and  Hopelessness  and 
Melancholy  grievous  to  be  borne.  Here  were  poverty-stricken 
weavers,  poverty-stricken  tent-makers,  poverty-stricken  dealers  in  pur¬ 
ples,  butchers,  tavern-keepers,  dealers  in  keys  and  locks  at  second 
hand,  even  poets  and  men  of  letters  (who  are  always  and  everywhere 
deeply  stricken  and  in  poverty)  as  well  as  preachers,  lawyers  and 


350 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


theologians.  Above  all,  here  were  Alukah,  the  Horse-leech,  and 
Parush,  the  formalist,  Keseel,  the  stupid  one,  Na-aph,  the  adulterer, 
and  Gannab,  the  thief.  And  Simon  hated  these  for  what  they  were, 
yet  loved  them  mightly  also,  for  that  they  were  sons  of  Abraham, 
and,  by  the  blood,  his  brethren. 

After  a  little  struggle  to  carry  on  business  in  the  ghetto  only, 
he  went  forth  again,  of  certain  days,  to  the  Gentile  portion  of  the  city. 
With  a  little  frame  for  fruits  about  neck  and  shoulders,  and  a 
jingling  bell  in  right  hand,  he  hawked  about  the  streets  and  alleys 
of  the  Viminal  Hill,  the  Vicus  Sceleratus,  eke  the  dark  and  dangerous 
passages  of  the  Subura.  And  each  and  every  of  the  man’s  competi¬ 
tors  would  sell  but  a  single  kind  of  fruit,  crying:  “Apricots,  apri¬ 
cots!”  Or,  as  it  might  be,  “Peaches,  Peaches!”  But  Simon  made  an 
innovation,  loading  up  with  different  varieties  of  fruits,  and  then 
shouting:  “Apricots,  peaches,  nectarines,  strawberries,  gooseberries, 
currants  and  raspberries!  Plums,  cherries,  pears,  citrons,  oranges, 
apples,  olives,  grapes,  figs,  melons,  lemons,  and  every  other  sort  of 
fruit  that  is  known  in  Caesar’s  dominions.” 

The  people  laughed  and  scoffed  and  crowded  clamorously  about 
him,  while  all  the  other  hucksters  were  silently  ignored.  And  lo  and 
behold!  the  people  discovered  that  the  cries  of  the  Jew  were  true, 
that  he  had  each  kind  of  fruit  which  there  was  in  the  whole  con¬ 
fines  of  Cgesar.  And  they  bought  of  the  fruits  freely,  merely  because 
they  were  tickled,  and  they  paid  good  prices,  even  for  the  same 
unreason.  Then,  when  the  other  hucksters  and  hawksters  had  played 
at  the  same  little  trick  and  it  began  to  grow  old  and  common,  behold ! 
this  inventive  Simon  of  Cyrene  had  got  for  himself  some  other  de¬ 
vice. 

On  a  day,  as  he  went  along,  crying:  “Any  old  rags  or  bones? — 
Bags,  bones,  bottles,  or  bits  of  unwritten  parchment?”  he 
beheld,  suddenly,  in  the  borders  of  the  Subura,  a  mighty  and  beauti¬ 
ful  house.  Standing  before  the  house,  who  but  Neomathes?  Now, 
Neomathes  endeavored  not  to  know  the  humble  Jew.  But  Simon, 
asking  him  whose  the  house  was,  found  that  the  place  had  pertained 
unto  Lampadephorus — that  noble  and  learned  Greek,  who,  much 
declining  in  circumstances,  had  become  a  simple  servant  unto  Caesar, 
and,  finally,  perished. 

Said  Simon  in  his  soul,  “0  Lampadephorus,  my  teacher!  I  will 
live  within  thy  mansion  on  a  day!  This  much  I  promise  thee,  0 
Lampadephorus,  my  dear  teacher !  ’  ’ 

And  he  went  on  (for  Neomathes  had  disappeared)  crying:  “Rags? 
Any  old  rags?  Rags,  bones?  Any  yellow  rags?”  For  behold,  the 


A  PROMINENT  MAN 


351 


man  was  buying  rags  of  every  color,  but  he  called  for  yellow  rags 
alone,  simply  in  order  that  people  might  ask  (as  they  did)  “What 
is  the  special  value  of  a  yellow  rag?”  And  thus  he  got  their  rags 
of  whatsoever  size  or  shape  or  color — and  came  thereby  a  trifle  nearer 
to  the  ownership  of  his  old  master’s  house. 

On  a  day,  he  was  called  to  the  palace  of  Seneca,  the  moral  philoso¬ 
pher,  who  was  first  very  kind  to  him,  then  interrogated  him  closely 
concerning  the  moral  teachings  of  the  Jews. 

And  Seneca  sent  him  away  as  were  he  a  king,  and  Simon  was 
greatly  heartened  by  this,  that  he  had  a  friend. 

And  the  Jew  regarded  neither  cold  nor  hunger,  nor  nakedness 
nor  peril  nor  sword,  but  sought  out  gold,  and  the  power  that  is  with 
gold,  interminably,  longing  especially  for  the  house  of  Lampadeph- 
orus.  Whenever  a  person  offended  him,  however  deeply,  he  managed 
to  shuffle  the  matter  aside  and  pass  on  to  other  things.  But  the  man 
who  mocked  him,  him  and  his  fathers  (even  as  Trivialis  oft  had 
done)  and  the  rites  of  his  religion,  that  man  he  could  never  forgive. 
And  he  was  ever  seeking  to  come  up  with  that  man,  yet  seldom  finding 
him. 

Ever  he  slept  in  the  ghetto,  and  after  a  time  Ophidion  caused 
a  law  to  be  enacted  whereby  he  must  so  sleep.  Yet,  here  in  the  dense 
corporeal  gloom  of  the  right  bank  of  the  river,  life  had  many  a 
compensation  for  the  Jew.  No  drunken  husband  ever  came  into  this 
quarter  of  the  city  to  beat  his  wife  and  little  ones  to  death.  The 
frequent  divorces  of  left-bank  society  were  spoken  of  by  these  mothers 
in  Israel  only  with  wondering  and  awe.  Whenever  a  sorrow  befell 
in  any  Jewish  family,  it  was  felt  in  the  bosom  of  all  of  them,  was 
multiplied  ten  thousand  fold  and  shared  with  a  holy  tenderness. 
Even  Alukah  was  known  to  give  to  secret  charities.  Amid  the  mere 
physical  gloom  of  the  Trans-Tiber,  in  fact,  the  domestic  and  spiritual 
life  of  the  children  of  Abraham  shone  like  a  great  binary  star. 

So,  for  a  time,  our  Simon  of  Cyrene  continued  to  live  in  the  ghetto, 
not  in  a  pleasant  apartment  truly,  but  in  a  cramped  and  noisome 
room — this  man  of  volcanic  passions  and  earth-shivering  energies. 
But,  in  that  cramped  and  foul-smelling  corner — what  super-Solomonic 
visions !  From  a  life  of  hard-headed,  practical  money-getting,  of 
diplomacy,  of  lithe  evasions  of  petty  or  powerful  attacks,  of  escapes 
from  tricks  and  traps  and  cunningest  pit-falls  (set  either  by  Jealousy 
or  Hate)  he  would  retire  at  night  into  this  secret  den,  thence  to  re¬ 
tire  once  more  and  yet  more  deeply,  into  the  magnificent  chambers  of 
his  own  soul.  And,  in  those  chambers,  he  would  stalk  and  brood,  like 
king  of  kings,  until  at  length  there  would  come  to  him  such  bright, 


352 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


improbable  phantasmagoria  as  neither  poppy  nor  mandragora  hath 
ever  conferred  on  any  of  Gentile  dreaming. 

And  mostly  he  saw  himself  in  the  house  of  Lampadephorus,  and 
Seneca  coming  to  visit  him.  The  words  that  they  said  and  the 
thoughts  they  experienced —  Neither  poppy  nor  mandragora! 

Once  again,  on  a  day,  had  Simon  of  Cyrene  achieved  the  toppling 
tragedy  of  success.  But,  yet  again,  came  messenger  after  messenger 
with  tidings  of  misfortune.  And  at  length  came  one  with  news  of 
further  losses,  both  in  ships  and  caravans:  the  last  of  all  his  ships, 
the  last  of  all  his  caravans. 

‘  ‘  All  ?  All  ?  What  say  est  thou  ?  *  All  ’  ?  All  gone  ?  All  ?  I  am 
nothing  but  the  shadow  of  a  dream!  Revenge!  Ambition!  Noth¬ 
ing  !  ’  ’ 

And  he  cast  dust  on  his  head,  and  fell  down  to  the  ground,  and 
grovelled  there  like  a  worm  that  is  wholly  lost. 

But,  in  the  midst  of  his  deep  downheartedness,  he  chanced  to  look 
upward.  And  there  he  beheld  Caesar,  the  Lord  of  All  This  World, 
smiling  down  upon  him. 

For  a  moment  the  Jew  could  not  believe  the  wonder  of  that  smile. 
Caesar  was  smiling  at  him — at  him,  even  Simon  of  Cyrene. 

Then  Caesar  stooped,  and  lifted  him  up,  and  embraced  him  and 
kissed  him  upon  the  mouth  most  fervently.  “Thou  art  very  dear  to 
me,  ’  ’  he  said,  ‘  ‘  0  Cyrenian  Simon.  ’  ’ 


CHAPTER  XLI 

Lift  up  Thine  Heart,  0  Job  bar- Job  :  Thou  Art  on  the  Path  to 

the  Stars 

Slaves  by  numerous  water-clocks  had  already  called  the  gallicin- 
ium  (or  time  when  cocks  begin  to  crow)  and  now  in  the  streets  before 
the  houses  of  the  great,  there  had  begun  to  form  the  customary 
throngs  of  suitors,  clients,  visitors,  idlers,  fools.  One  of  the  largest 
of  the  multitudes  had  got  itself  together  a  trifle  earlier  than  the  rest 
in  the  wide  and  well-paved  space  before  a  massive,  brass-doored 
domus  which  stood  on  the  boundary  between  the  Subura  and  the 
Carinas. 

“Simon  of  Cyrene  is  a  prominent  man,”  quoth  one  among  the 
many. 

“Thou  sayest  truly,  Mobilis.  But  thinkest  thou  that  his  promi¬ 
nence  will  endure  ?  Is  it  not  like  to  a  frost  before  the  shining  sun  of 
Cassar  ?  ’ 5 


A  PROMINENT  MAN 


353 


‘  ‘  It  will  not  endure,  0  Lividulus.” 

“Sayest  thou, ”  inquired  another,  “that  the  prominence  of  Simon, 
of  Cyrene  will  not  endure?’ ’ 

“Yea,  for  Sarcogenes  is  against  him.” 

“But,”  said  the  other,  a  person  of  middling  height  and  weight 
and  very  common  manners,  and  whose  name,  as  it  seemed,  was  Vulgus. 
“Simon  of  Cyrene  is  much  more  powerful  than  is  Sarcogenes,  for  he 
hath  more  weight  with  Caesar.  ’  ’ 

Now,  at  this  moment,  who  but  Sarcogenes  himself  should  be  faring 
along  in  his  litter?  And  he  heard  the  saying  of  Vulgus,  to  wit  that 
Simon  of  Cyrene  was  more  powerful  than  he,  Sarcogenes,  and  for 
this,  that  he  was  weightier  than  he  in  the  mind  of  Caesar.  And  al¬ 
though  the  multitude  shouted  lustily,  “Long  life  to  Sarcogenes, 
Comes  Principis !  Hail,  Sarcogenes !  ’  ’  still  the  man  of  evil  was  heavy 
of  heart  for  that  which  he  had  heard.  Yet,  too,  he  waved  a  greeting 
to  the  multitude,  especially  Vulgus  and  Mobilis,  and,  smiling,  passed 
on. 

“The  Jew  will  not  long  endure,”  said  then,  also,  Repetitio — “but, 
by  the  shades  of  Hercules,  a  fight !  ’  ’ 

And  so  it  was,  for  a  certain  Timidus  had  tickled  the  malformed 
ear  of  a  giant  named  Pugilus,  and  the  giant  was  busy  to  vanquish 
him.  The  which  he  promptly  accomplished,  and  sent  him  down  the 
manhole  into  a  sewer. 

Then  placed  Pugilus  the  lid  over  the  manhole,  and  all  the  crowd 
did  laugh  right  merrily. 

But  after  a  time,  there  came  from  another  direction  the  selfsame 
Timidus,  reeking  with  filth.  So  the  crowd  did  laugh  again  and  hold 
its  noses. 

And  Timidus  went  his  own  way. 

Then  said  Mobilis  unto  Vulgus,  “Behold!  this  Timidus  is  well 
familiar  with  the  streets  and  passages  of  Nether  Rome.” 

“Those  ways  and  passages  be  the  resort,  full  often,  of  the  timid,” 
said  Vulgus.  “I  have  hidden  therein  mine  own  sweet  self — when  a 
many  were  after  me.” 

“So,  too,  have  I/’  acknowledged  Mobilis.  “The  blackness,  the 
stench,  and  the  rats!  I  saw  one  corpse.  Pah!  A  man  must  know 
his  way  therein  or  he  cometh  not  again  out. — I  knew  this  Simon  of 
Cyrene  when  he  lived  in  the  Regio  Judeorum — over  yonder.  He  had 
not  a  penny.” 

“Now  he  is  a  Roman  citizen  and  a  prominent  man. — Will  his 
gates  never  open?” 

“Yea,  and  more,”  said  one  that  was  called  Defectus  (A  Failure) 

23 


354 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


“for  Cassar  loveth  him.  That  is  the  reason  and  the  only  reason  why 
the  fellow  prospereth  in  this  way.” 

Then  came  one  Ridiculus,  a  wag,  who  told  of  how  Defectus  had 
lately  lost  again  large  moneys  in  a  certain  enterprise.  “Why  sentest 
thou,  0  Defectus,”  inquired  he,  “a  shipload  of  warm  apparel  unto 
Egypt?  Knewest  thou  not  that  in  Egypt — ” 

But  Defectus  had  slipped  away,  being  high  tender  about  this  enter¬ 
prise. 

Then  came  others  up,  taking  Defectus’  place,  and  calumniated  the 
Jew.  “ITe  is  negligent  of  his  person,”  cried  Sordes;  “too  dressy,” 
declared  Ornatus.  “He  hath  taken  many  moneys  and  all  for  noth¬ 
ing,  ’  ’  whined  Astutius  and  Fraudator  in  the  same  breath.  1 1  He  hath 
no  modesty,”  said  Impudens.  “Nor  self-confidence,”  whispered  Tim- 
idus,  who  now  had  returned  in  other  apparel.  “Too  free  with  wom¬ 
en,  ’ 7  said  Lascivus.  ‘  ‘  He  is  small  minded,  ’  ’  complained  Parvus.  ‘  ‘  He 
used  to  beg,”  cried  Mendicans.  And  so  on. 

“Beg,”  said  then  Defectus,  who  had  got  his  countenance  once 
more.  “I  heard  of  the  fellow  when  he  lived  in  the  Mines  of  the 
Wretched.  Was  he  not  merely  a  thief?  Believest  thou  me  not,  look 
ye,  any  man,  upon  his  brow,  and  behold  where  Caesar  hath  aforetime 
branded  him.” 

Then  came  up  one  whose  face  was  bandaged  all  about.  And  he 
said,  “But  that  was  an  unjust  branding.”  And  he  would  have  said 
more,  but  knew  not  how  to  utter  the  thing  he  would  say.  He  there¬ 
fore  stepped  about  uneasily,  and  fidgetted  into  silence. 

And  no  one  in  any  wise  answered  him,  for  that  he  had  no  faith 
in  himself.  Moreover,  he  had  spoken  against  Cassar. 

Then  spake  again  Defectus,  saying:  “What  the  gods  intend  to  do, 
that  will  they  accomplish,  spite  of  all  the  strength  and  all  the  weak¬ 
ness,  all  the  folly  and  all  the  wisdom  of  their  merely  human  instru¬ 
ments.  ’  ’ 

“Thou  speakest,  0  Defectus,”  said  the  man  called  Yulgus,  “like 
a  philosopher  with  a  beard  a  mile  long.” 

“And  what  the  gods  intend  shall  not  be  done,  that  will  in  no  wise 
be  accomplished — spite  of  all  the  strength  and  all  the  weakness,  all 
the  folly  and  all  the  wisdom  of  their  merely  human  agents.  That 
is  the  reason  why  some  men  who  have  not  so  much  brains  as  a  sparrow, 
prosper  exceedingly,  and  build  fine  houses,  and  also  why  some  others 
who  are  gifted  with  massive  intellects —  Will  the  gates  not  open? — 
but  look !  The  games  increase  each  day,  and  the  carts  of  corpses 
throng  the  streets —  See !  there  are  some  of  the  bodies  falling 
off.” 


A  PROMINENT  MAN 


355 


“ Happier  even  they,”  said  the  man  with  the  bandage  round  his 
face,  but  now  more  boldly,  for  that  he  seemed  to  be  in  some  sort  of 
excitement,  “than  those  who  come  in  the  opposite  direction.  Look! 
Look  ye !” 

The  crowd  looked  promptly  (being  itself  in  excitement)  and  be¬ 
held  a  long,  pale  file  of  victims  bearing  crosses.  Headed  were  all  for 
the  Esquiline  gate. 

And  Defectus  cried  aloud  and  cursed  (and  a  many  others  with 
him)  for  that  he  had  much  business  with  the  Jew,  the  which  did 
truly  prevent  his  witnessing  the  execution. 

Cried  a  little  man,  in  a  feeble  voice :  “It  thundereth  terribly. ’ ’ 

“No,”  corrected  a  big,  pompous  fellow:  “that  was  the  sound  of 
lions  newly  arrived  at  the  amphitheatre.  I  watched  them  all  night. 
If  there  is  anything  I  fear  at  all,  it’s  lions;  so  I — ” 

“Not  so,  not  so,”  brake  in  Mobilis.  “But  the  key  in  the  lock  of 
Simon’s  great  house — I  thought  I  heard  the  thing  grating,  and  it  did 
nearly  turn.” 

“Thou  callest,”  said  Defectus,  “this  the  house  of  Simon  of  Cyrene, 
and  speakest  as  if  that  man  had  truly  budded  it.  Yet  built  he  it  not. 
For  I  mind  me  of  a  certain  time  when  the  palace  (only  more  brilliant 
it  was  then)  appertained  to  Lampadephorus,  a  most  illustrious 
Greek.” 

“Who  became  mightily  fallen.” 

“Or  ere  he  died,  a  very  long  time  or  ere  he  died.  And  he — ” 

But  there  came  up  unto  Defectus  and  the  friends  with  whom  he 
spake,  the  man  whose  face  was  muffled.  He  said,  “I  pray  you,  good 
sirs,  tell  me  who  liveth  here.” 

Defectus  looked  at  the  man  a  little  before  he  answered.  “Know- 
est  thou  not?  Thou  didst  speak  for  the  man  a  while  ago.” 

“Not  for  a  certainty.  I  have  been  afeard —  I  have  come  a 
great — ” 

“He  is  Simon  of  Cyrene,  then.” 

“A  Jew?” 

“I  believe  that.” 

“Is  he  rich?” 

At  this,  Defectus  and  Ridiculus  and  one  called  Stupidus  looked 
at  one  another  with  a  smile.  “Whence  hast  thou  come?” 

‘ ‘ Greece. ’ ’  Then,  after  a  time,  and  in  a  quivering  voice :  “Is  the 
man — hospitable  unto  strangers?” 

“Hast  thou  never  indeed  heard  about  Simon  of  Cyrene,  mighty 
man  and  intellectual,  and  patron  of  all  the  arts?”  asked  Defectus. 
“That  man  is  high  hospitable — at  his  own  high  price.” 


356 


SIMON  OF  GYRENE 


The  stranger,  moving  a  step  or  two,  made  answer :  “I  have  heard 
a  little  of  this  Simon  of  Cyrene,  yet  not  much.  He  is  a  priest —  We 
all  sleep  in  the  tents  of  Shem —  But  what,  0  strangers,  of  my 
former  questions  ?  Is  Simon  of  Cyrene  very  rich  ?  Or  liveth  he  only 
grandly  ?  The  two  are  not  the  same,  ye  wot.  Is  he  safe  or  in  danger  ? 
Doth  he  need  help,  as  do  most  rich  men?  Hath  he  many  servants, 
and  hath  he  a  capable  steward  over  them,  or”  (he  began  to  laugh  as 
it  were  a  right  good  joke)  “needeth  he  yet  another  V’ 

Defectus  grinned  long.  ‘  ‘  He  can  have  as  many  as  he  needeth,  for 
he  hath  bought  and  sold  Rome,”  said  he. 

“The  whole  world,”  corrected  Vulgus, 

“He  is  a  thief,”  went  on  Defectus. 

“Hath  already  a  many  servants,”  added  Mobilis. 

“He  hath  lost  a  steward  lately,  as  I  hear,”  put  in  Curiosus.  “I 
should  like  myself  to  know  much  more  about  the  matter.” 

Then  said  all  together,  ‘  ‘  He  is  never  safe,  and  he  hath  no  friends. 
Beware  thou  of  him,  and  help  him  not  in  any  wise — lest  thou  also 
suffer,  even  as  thou  seemest  truly  to  have  done  already.  ’  ’ 

And  at  this  very  time,  the  man  Ridiculus  and  that  other  fool  which 
hight  Stupidus,  grabbing  at  the  bandage  which  swathed  the  stranger ’s 
face  all  round  about,  tore  it  completely  away  for  a  joke,  and  then — 
stood  staring. 

Yea,  they  looked  very  much  ashamed.  And,  turning,  they  went 
slowly  to  the  back  of  the  crowd. 

And  a  many  of  the  others,  when  they  had  looked  on  the  bare 
and  naked  contenance  of  this  man,  turned  round  quickly,  and  gat 
them  to  a  distant  portion  of  the  street — but  only  in  time  to  shout: 
*  ‘  The  Lord !  The  Lord !  ’  ’ 

Then  came  Caesar,  passing  in  his  litter  of  gold.  Anteambulatores 
went  before  him,  pedisequii  behind,  and  after  these  his  many  guards 
in  steel  and  brass  and  flaming  scarlet.  A  trumpet  blew.  The  walls 
echoed.  One  cried,  ‘  ‘  Caesar  goeth  to  the  games !  ’  ’  The  people  fell  and 
grovelled  on  their  faces,  moaning :  “  0  Caesar !  Caesar,  thou  art  God !  ’ 1 
Caesar  looked  at  the  multitude  with  anxious  scrutiny,  for  he  wished 
to  know  whether  his  influence  over  his  people  (that  is,  as  a  god)  was 
in  any  wise  getting  less. 

About  this  time  the  brazen  doors  of  Simon’s  domus  groaned  on 
their  hinges,  and,  at  the  end,  did  utter  a  cry,  a  shriek  of  pain  in¬ 
tolerable.  And  a  many  of  the  crowd  that  were  nearest  the  gates  when 
they  heard  the  turning,  suddenly  stood  up,  and  rushed  thickly  into 
the  mighty  building,  leaving  the  god  of  all  the  world,  even  Caesar, 
with  an  arrow  of  envy  rankling  in  his  foolish  heart. 


A  PROMINENT  MAN 

* 


357 


CHAPTER  XLII 

The  House  of  the  Jew  and  The  House  of  the  Serpent 

Now  in  liis  secret  chamber,  the  place  whereof  was  known  to  none 
but  himself,  Simon  of  Cyrene  had  faintly  heard  his  old  slave,  Chronos 
(he  that  sate  in  the  distant  atrium  by  the  side  of  the  silver  water 
clock,  bearing  in  his  hands  a  great  scythe)  moaning  (like  as  it  were 
a  voice  from  beyond  the  tomb)  :  “  Conticinium,  conticinium!  A  new 
day  is  born.  Be  ye,  therefore,  merry,  and  lay  all  fears  away.” 
Simon  thereupon  quickly  arose,  and,  from  a  secret  vantage  ground, 
beheld  that  the  peoples  were  gathering  (as  he  had  feared  that  they 
might  not  do)  in  the  square  before  his  palace.  He  knew  that  he  was 
overglad  that  they  had  come.  Apparelling  himself,  he  partook  of 
certain  viands,  and  further  prepared  that  he  might  go  forth  and  hold 
his  levy  in  the  hall  of  gold. 

But  then  a  great  fear  knocked  at  his  heart,  and  he  stopped  with 
his  hand  on  the  secret  door  of  the  room,  feeling  as  it  were  all  the 
pulses  in  his  veins.  ‘  ‘  0  Adonai !  Adonai !  I,  thy  priest,  am  wholly 
afeard,  for  lo  I  have  had  a  sordid  combat  with  this  world.” 

And  he  asked,  Had  there  been  a  purpose  running  through  his  life. 
Yea,  by  the  gold  that  is  in  the  Temple.  And  so  should  there  continue 
forevermore  to  be?  Yea,  by  the  very  shekinah.  “And  when  I  have 
no  further  need  of  thee,  I  will  break  thee  and  yet  keep  thee.  ’  ’ 

Simon  of  Cyrene,  pressing  upon  the  door,  it  gave.  And  he  left 
his  safe,  prayer-filled  cubiculum,  and,  by  a  narrow  passage,  went  into 
another  not  quite  so  secret,  way.  And  so,  by  soft  degrees,  came 
forth  unto  certain  wider  and  less  hidden  corridors,  which  those  of 
his  servants  whom  he  most  nearly  trusted,  did  also,  in  some  manner, 
know  about. 

Now  he  had  well-nigh  reached  the  closed,  narrow  gate  which 
would  open  upon  his  dais  in  the  hall  of  audience. 

Again  he  paused. 

For  there  came  upon  him,  of  a  sudden,  the  premonition  of  a 
happiness  greater  than  he  had  ever  known  before — mingled,  however, 
with  fears  (which  came  again)  of  blackest  dye.  “Perhaps,”  thought 
he,  “such  moods  are  common  to  the  exalted.” 

The  exalted! 

He  was  clad,  this  Simon  of  Cyrene,  in  a  golden  gear,  and  he  knew 
that,  as  he  walked,  his  limbs  were  bathed  in  showers  of  flaming  splen¬ 
dor.  The  walls  about  him  were  of  curious  marble  set  with  plates  of 
shining  gold  and  gems.  Yet  was  his  heart  wax,  and  his  limbs  water. 


358 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


For  he  knew  in  his  soul  that  all  of  the  things  which  he  mundanely 
was,  and  all  of  the  things  which  ever  he  might  mundanely  hope  to 
be,  were  built  and  founded  on  the  fickle  will  of  Caeisar. 

Then  he  went  on  yet  a  little  nigher  to  his  audience  room,  but  with 
ever  a  more  and  more  doubtful  heart,  so  that,  at  length,  he  took  vain 
counsel  with  himself  whether  he  should  then  and  there  go  into  the 
chamber,  or  should  wait  till  another  day.  In  the  end,  he  thought  he 
would  take  his  fortune,  God  being  with  him.  Yet  he  continually 
turned  over  in  his  mind  how  he  might  do  in  this  case  and  again  in 
that,  and  he  also  felt  for  his  swords  beneath  his  splendid  garments, 
and  found  them,  and  gloried  in  his  strength,  which  had  never  yet 
been  vanquished. 

He  opened  the  gate,  and  threw  it  from  him,  as  he  that  was  lord 
of  the  place  might  very  well  do. 

And  he  entered  in  all  his  shining  vesture. 

And  the  audience  was  hushed. 

And  he  went  quickly  and  sate  upon  his  golden  seat  in  the  middle 
of  the  dais,  which  was  of  amber.  And  alabaster  pillars  were  set  and 
ranged  on  the  borders  of  the  dais,  to  the  right  hand  and  to  the  left, 
and  over  the  pillars  clomb  many  a  vine  whose  leaves  were  made  of 
the  dust  of  emeralds  and  whose  grapes  were  single  rubies.  And  the 
colors  of  the  place  were  those  of  a  tropical  forest,  but  nowhere  was 
there  any  graven  image,  or  a  sign  of  the  gods  or  of  God.  And  there 
was  ever  a  little  music  far  away,  and  waves  of  myrrh  and  cinnamon 
ran  continually  into  the  chamber. 

Then,  as  the  Jew  had  not  yet  spoken,  the  standing  multitude  burst 
into  loud  acclaim  and  wishes  of  prosperity  at  this,  the  earliest,  levee 
of  the  Jew. 

Simon  said  unto  them,  ‘  ‘  I  thank  you  all :  be  seated.  ’  ’ 

When  the  audience  was  set  in  their  silver  seats,  the  master  of  the 
house  would  then  have  spoken  a  little  speech  to  them,  but  many  a 
peregrinus  came  forward  toward  him  quickly,  laden  with  lordly  pres¬ 
ents,  as  though  he  were  a  king.  Great  horns  of  ivory  they  bore,  from 
Cyrenaica ;  bowls  and  baths  of  silver  from  the  Laurion  mines ;  out  of 
Africa,,  peacocks  and  apes ;  from  Persia  frankincense  and  myrrh ;  and 
stuffs  of  silk  from  China,  and  byssus  out  of  Egypt,  and  clanking, 
clamorous  ingots  from  the  Mines  of  the  Wretched. 

And  sweet  were  the  words  that  went  with  each  of  the  gifts,  and 
at  the  giving  of  each  gift  and  the  making  of  each  speech,  the  crowd 
again  arose,  shouted  wild  acclaims  and  wishes  for  yet  greater  pros¬ 
perity  unto  him  that  ruled  this  house. 

Then  up  ran  negroes,  who  beat  their  brows  on  the  pavement  before 


A  PROMINENT  MAN 


359 


the  Jew’s  throne,  crying:  “We  are  sent  unto  thee,  0  Simon  of 
Cyrene,  by  Nummus  and  Praesens  Pecunia  to  be  as  thy  slaves  forever ; 
and  this  is  also  a  gift.” 

Again  there  were  loud  acclaims.  Defectus  cried,  “Great  is  Simon 
of  Cyrene,  Simon  the  just  and  the  merciful!”  Mobilis  and  Vulgus 
echoed  Defectus,  shouting,  even  as  it  were  with  trumpets:  “Just  and 
merciful !  Just  and  merciful !  ’  ’ 

Arose  Simon  of  Cyrene  in  all  his  robes  of  regal  splendor  (remem¬ 
bering  that  so  he  had  oft  beheld  himself,  dreaming  in  the  Mines  of 
the  Wretched,  and,  underneath  a  bag,  about  the  Roman  Campagna) 
and  said  unto  those  assembled :  ‘  ‘  Fellow  citizens  of  Rome,  clients  and 
visiting  peregrini,  and  mine  own  familia  also :  welcome  unto  you  into 
this  room  of  audience.  Twice  and  three  times  welcome.  Be  ye  once 
more  seated.  Each  and  every  morning,  come  ye  yet  again  into  this 
hall  of  audience.  For  ye  shall  be  ever  welcome  till  time  shall  be  for 
me  no  more.  ’  ’ 

Then  cried  Ridiculus  and  Defectus  in  a  common  voice,  “Music! 
Music !  Simon  of  Cyrene  is  a  merchant  of  endless  genius :  let  us  hear 
his  voice!”  Yulgus  and  Mobilis  echoed,  “Let  us  hear  his  voice!” 

But  Simon  said,  “Not  music  first.  It  is  meet  that  justice  should, 
at  the  outset  of  an  audience,  be  arranged  for.  And  behold,  I  am 
truly  sorry  that  he  who  was  hitherto  my  steward  (Vociferatio  Re- 
ligiosus)  hath  proved  unworthy,  and  been  sent  out  of  my  home.  The 
man  was  a  Christian,  and,  at  that,  unworthy.”  He  had  well-nigh 
added,  “as  are  all  idolaters,”  but  sealed  his  lips,  and  none  too  soon. 
“Now  I  have  no  steward  that  shall  lead  the  claimants  up,  but  only  the 
atriensis.  Yet  may  he  suffice.” 

There  then  was  led  up  unto  the  Jew  a  man  which  lived  in  the 
Forum  Boarium.  He  cried,  “A  boon,  powerful  Lord!  Spare  thou 
my  brother,  who  is  much  in  debt  to  thee,  and  hath  nothing.  And 
give  him  a  gift  of  moneys  (a  thousand  sesterces,  if  thou  likest)  that 
he  may  start  once  more  in  life.  ’  ’ 

Simon  inquired,  “Thy  brother’s  name?” 

“Anopheles”  (Useless). 

Said  Simon  unto  him,  “  It  is  ever  pleasanter  to  grant  than  to  with¬ 
hold.  Moreover,  that  this,  mine  earliest  act  at  this  mine  earliest  ses¬ 
sions,  may  be  prophetic  of  a  kindly  future  for  the  house,  I  do  hereby 
grant  all  thou  askest.  Be  it  so,  Secretary.  Make  thou  the  record,  and 
thou,  0  Treasure-bearer,  pay  the  sum.” 

There  was  then  brought  up  unto  the  Jew  a  scrawny  man  in  rags, 
who  was  a-tremble.  At  first  he  could  not  speak.  Then  said  he, 
“Mercy,  Master.  Kill  me  not.  I  have  run  from  thy  country  place 


360 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


beyond  the  Alps,  and  would  say  to  thee  how  miserable  we  are,  all  thy 
slaves  that  be  in  that  place.  For  lo,  we  are  beaten  every  day  until 
we  fall  to  earth.  And  this  is  by  him  thou  didst  settle  over  us.  Little 
have  we  to  eat  at  any  time  or  clothes  to  wear,  or  medicine  for  sickness. 
And  pestilence  breeds  among  us  every  hour.  7 7 

Said  Simon  to  his  servants,  “Take  thou  this  man  and  feed  him 
well,  and  set  him  in  better  apparel.  See  unto  it  that  a  proper  one  is 
put  above  my  slaves  whence  he  hath  come.  Fail  not.”  He  smiled 
upon  the  messenger,  and  kissed  him,  and  lifted  him  up. 

Then  cried  out  Defectus  (and  was  echoed  as  before),  “0  wonder¬ 
ful  Jew!  0  patron  of  all  the  arts,  likewise  of  mercy!” 

And  one  in  a  corner  cried,  in  a  little  harsh  voice:  “Music!  Let 
us  have  the  music!” 

Others  shouted,  chief  among  them  Defectus:  “Let  us  hear  thy 
voice,  O  Simon  of  Cyrene,  thy  most  incomparable  voice.  7  7 

Simon  said  unto  them,  No,  he  sang  not  any  more. 

But  they  would  not  be  appeased. 

Then  called  Simon  a  certain  slave,  a  Greek,  Harmonius,  saying  : 
1 1  Hear  ye  him :  he  is  my  musician. 7  7 

And  when  the  Greek  had  both  played  and  sung  a  song  about  the 
uncertain  tenure  of  power,  wealth,  and  life,  and  had  finished  his 
music,  he  stepped  softly  up  before  his  master,  and,  with  a  delicate 
little  mystery,  handed  unto  him  a  shepherd’s  harp. 

Simon  took  the  harp,  and  looked  upon  it,  and  slowly  suffered  his 
fingers  to  stray  among  the  founts  of  sweet  melody.  Even  as  oft  he  had 
played  in  far  Pentapolis,  so  played  he  now,  singing  of  his  old-time  life 
among  the  sheep-filled  pastures. 

And  the  lights  of  flattery  died  out  of  innumerable  faces.  And 
some  of  the  peoples  turned  down  their  eyes,  beholding  again  the 
sweetness  of  days  that  were  gone,  while  others,  gazing  wide-eyed  on 
walls  or  ceiling,  were  happily  alone  with  what  they  had  wished  to 
be.  And  one  did  hide  his  face  within  his  garment,  that  his  soul’s 
nakedness  might  not  be  seen. 

When  Simon  had  finished,  he  said,  softly  in  the  magic  hush: 
“Come  hither,  sweet  one,”  unto  a  child  that  stood  near  his  throne. 
And  he  gave  her  the  harp  to  keep  as  a  gift  forever,  saying  afterwards : 
“Wast  thou  one  of  my  petitioners,  and  have  I  overlong  delayed  thee, 
little  statue  of  a  mighty  joy?” 

Said  the  child,  “I  am  one  of  many  children  who  have  brought 
thee  gifts.  And  lo !  we  were  frightened,  and  had  no  chance  that  we 
should  say  unto  thee  the  things  we  were  bidden  to  say.  But  now  we 
say  them :  Out  of  the  hills  of  far  Calabria  do  we  come,  bearing  sun- 


A  PROMINENT  MAN 


361 


filled  grapes  in  a  silver  basket — for  this,  that  thou,  in  years  agone, 
wast  kind — kind  beyond  reason  or  measure — unto  the  people  of  Brun- 
disium.  Thou  hast  forgot,  0  mighty  one — there  was  a  famine — they 
have  not  forgot.” 

She  went  up  close  to  the  Master  on  his  very  dais,  and  bowed,  and 
knelt  before  him,  and  offered  him  the  grapes. 

Simon  took  of  the  grapes  and  would  have  eaten,  but  that,  as  it 
were  at  a  signal,  up  rose  two  mighty  forms  from  right  and  left  of 
the  dais,  and  rushed  upon  him,  bearing  bright  blades. 

But  Simon,  having  been  forewarned  by  his  many  fears  about  this 
day,  had  not  been  blind  to  the  attack.  And  he  caught  the  giants  by 
the  poniard  wrists,  and  brake  the  bones  thereof.  Then  said  he  unto 
the  men,  44  Shall  I  send  you  to  Ceesar’s  courts,  or  will  ye  eat  these 
grapes,  and,  if  ye  live,  be  free?”  (For  now  he  was  again  suspicious 
of  all  things.) 

They  said,  4 ‘We  know  nothing  at  all  about  these  grapes,  having 
been  sent  to  kill  thee  by  Sarcogenes,  who  said  nothing  of  grapes.  Nor 
do  we  like  the  thought  of  crosses.  And  so  we  will  eat  your  grapes.” 

And  the  twain,  having  eaten,  fell  at  once  dead. 

Then  was  much  confusion  in  the  room.  And  the  men  that  were 
dead  were  taken  forth  publicly.  And  servants  and  friends  of  Simon 
interrogated  the  children  concerning  the  grapes.  These  said  unto  them 
that  the  grapes  had  been  given  into  their  hands  by  a  beautiful  woman, 
Hypocrisia. 

4  4  She !  ’  ’  cried  out  then  Simon  of  Cyrene.  4  4  She  is  herself  but  a 
servant  of  Ophidion.  Now,  as  ye  may  all  know,  this  Ophidion  is  an 
ancient  enemy  of  mine,  he  who  now  calleth  himself  (since  he  would 
be  known  under  another  name)  ‘Sarcogenes.’  ” 

At  this  some  invisible  force  lifted  the  eyes  of  Simon  beyond  his 
dais,  and  took  them  to  the  curtains  of  Tyrian  web  wherewith  the 
passage  to  an  outer  court  and  so  into  the  street,  was  gloriously  fore- 
hidden. 

And  there  he  beheld  a  most  marvelous  sight,  a  man  with  his  face 
in  a  bandage,  yet  whose  eyes  (as  he  thought)  were  the  eyes  of  Jesus. 

....  But,  meanwhile,  there  had  gone  out  into  the  street,  follow¬ 
ing  the  bodies  of  the  men  that  had  died,  a  goodly  multitude,  receiving 
each,  however,  a  sportula  (or  basket  full  of  gifts)  as  he  left  the 
door. 

And  a  many  of  these,  when  they  had  considered,  said:  44It  is 
meet  that  all  who  so  desire  should  be  clients  of  two,  and  not  of  one 
only.  Let  us  therefore  make  the  ciconia  backward  at  the  house  of 
Simon  of  Cyrene,  then  pass  on  to  the  house  of  Sarcogenes,  attending 


362 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


the  sessions  of  that  man  also,  and  also  receive,  as  we  come  away  from 
him,  the  sportuhe  of  that  house.” 

So  they  ran  quickly  (for  lo,  the  distance  was  not  far)  unto  the 
great  space  which  lay  before  the  iron  doors  of  Sarcogenes.  Barbaras 
and  Molestus;  Defectus,  Vulgus,  and  Mobilis,  yea  and  a  many  others 
also  ran.  And,  before  the  portals  of  old  Sarcogenes  the  Evil,  joined 
themselves  unto  a  many  others  which  were  in  waiting  at  that  place. 

And  Vulgus,  for  that  the  waiting  was  long,  said  to  the  rest  of 
the  multitude :  “Let  us  play  at  a  court  of  justice  the  while  we  wait  for 
entrance.”  He  pulled  a  lid  from  a  sewer-way,  and  sate  upon  it 
edgewise,  as  it  were  a  tribunal,  and  said  then  unto  Defectus  (as  he 
himself  had  been  a  Roman  praetor)  :  “Thou,  sirrah,  standest  accused 
of  shipping  heavy  clothing  into  Egypt.  ’  ’ 

Whereat  a  great  shout  rose,  and  Defectus  would  have  gone  away 
indignant.  But  Levis,  Inconstans,  and  Inconsideratus,  Roman  citizens 
all,  did  hold  him. 

Said  Vulgus,  “I  am  the  praetor,  thou  wottest  well.  Wouldst  leave 
my  court  informally  and  sans  permission?  We  shall  see.  Come, 
delator,  read  thy  delation.  Next  we  shall  have  the  proof.  Then, 
moreover  inasmuch  and  notwithstanding,  whereas  and  in  view  of  the 
legal  facts,  the  matter  may  come  to  an  execution.  Thank  the  gods  at 
any  time  for  an  execution.  But,  first,  we  must  have  justice.  First  of 
all  and  always  cometh  justice,  even  while  the  praetor  like  the  culprit 
not,  and  knoweth  full  well  he  intendeth  to  convict  him.” 

But,  by  this,  one  of  the  men  that  stood  on  the  edge  of  the  crowd, 
cried  hoarsely:  “Caesar!  Caesar!  He  returneth  from  the  games. 
Break  up  the  jest!” 

Then  bowed  a  many  of  the  people,  and  grovelled  in  the  dust 
again,  even  as  they  had  done  before  the  house  of  Simon  of  Cyrene. 

But  Mobilis  stood  and  whispered  unto  them  that  held  Defectus, 
“Continue  ye  to  hold  him,  and  I  will  make  sport  even  before  Caesar.” 

And  he  ran  up  unto  Vulgus,  and  pushed  him  off  the  sewer-lid, 
crying  in  a  tone  of  authority :  ‘  ‘  Sirrah !  stand  down  from  that  tribu¬ 
nal.  For  I  am  Caesar,  and  I  will  take  this  case  (because  of  its  impor¬ 
tance)  into  mine  own  hands.”  For  such  in  truth  was  the  custom  of 
Caesar  in  cases  that  did  concern  the  welfare  of  the  whole  world  or  his 
own  dignity  and  godhead. 

And  Mobilis  struck  Vulgus  on  the  ear  and  sent  him  sprawling,  and 
did  take  from  him  the  seat  of  sewer-justice. 

And  Caesar  laughed  (for  he  saw  that  his  people  were  laughing,  and 
he  feared  them  in  the  mass)  and,  passing  within  the  doors  of  Sar¬ 
cogenes,  enemy  to  Simon  of  Cyrene  (which  were  specially  opened 


A  PROMINENT  MAN 


363 


unto  him)  he  calleth  back  unto  the  mob:  “Ye  do  well,  my  people: 
it  is  pleasant  to  see  you  thus  merry.” 

Meantime,  Sarcogenes  had  arisen  (but  later  than  Simon  of  C y- 
rene)  and,  having  partaken  both  of  flesh  and  wine,  began  to  call 
certain  counsellors,  and  to  frame  an  evil  program  for  yet  another 
day  of  destruction.  But  or  ere  the  work  was  finished,  came  the  An¬ 
nunciator,  crying :  ‘  ‘  Cassar !  0  Master,  it  is  Csesar !  ’  ’ 

And,  as  Caesar  came  on,  thrusting  his  tallowy  body  into  the  apart¬ 
ment,  the  master  of  the  house  did  cry :  ‘  ‘  Away  with  you  all,  my  coun¬ 
sellors  !  ’  ’  He  fell  on  his  face,  and  worshipped  Caesar. 

But  Caesar  lifted  Sarcogenes  up,  and  the  two  sate  down  together  at 
the  table  of  counsel. 

Then  said  Caesar  (and  his  words  were  like  the  voice  of  a  demon 
from  the  throat  of  a  hippopotamus),  “How  is  my  long-time  favorite, 
after  the  revels  of  three  nights  agone  ?  ’  ’ 

Sarcogenes  leaned  over  and  whispered  in  the  giant  ear.  Caesar 
cried,  “Is  it  even  so ?  Thou  hast  said  enough. ’ ’  He  laughed  heartily. 
And  the  Man  of  Sin,  thinking  to  take  advantage  of  the  pleasant  mood 
wherein  he  had  got  his  sovereign,  supplicateth :  “A  boon.” 

“Say  on,”  quoth  Caesar. 

“There  is  one  that  liketh  neither  thee  nor  me,”  continued  Sar¬ 
cogenes,  remembering  that,  on  the  very  day,  Yulgus  had  declared  in 
the  presence  of  a  multitude  that  Simon  of  Cyrene  was  much  more 
powerful  than  he,  even  Sarcogenes :  ‘  ‘  There  is  one  that  liketh  neither 
thee  nor  me.  He  also  waxeth  much  too  powerful,  and  now,  each  day, 
the  people  begin  to  follow  him  to  the  mighty  neglect  not  only  of  me 
but  also  of  thee,  great  Caesar.” 

He  stopped,  seeing  he  had  got  old  Caesar  on  his  side.  For  Caesar 
remembered  the  way  with  which  a  many  of  the  people,  on  that  very 
morning,  had  arisen,  in  the  near  presence  and  countenance  of  him, 
Caesar,  and  rushed  into  the  house  of  the  Jew,  even  as  if  the  Lord  of 
All  this  World  were  a  stinking  fungus. 

Said  Caesar,  “I  hate  the  Jew.” 

Whispered  Sarcogenes,  “He  is  ripe  to  die.” 

But  Caesar:  “Lend  thou  me  ten  million  sestertia. ”  His  fat,  hairy 
hand  went  forth. 

The  Man  of  Sin  saith:  “I  have  not  so  much  to  lend.  The 
revels — ” 

Caesar:  “How  may  I  do  without  the  Jew,  then?  Thou  art  very 
useful  unto  me  as  Master  of  the  Revels,  but,  whenever  I  say  to  thee, 

‘  Ten  million  sestertia  !  ’  then  answerest  thou,  ‘  I  have  it  not.  ’  The  J ew 
hath  it  ever.  He  knoweth  how —  And  he  revelleth  not  at  all,  but 


364 


SIMON  OF  GYRENE 


saveth  like  an  ant.  Then,  as  I  be  man  of  refinement,  I  rob  him,  and 
he  doth  not  scream.  He  knoweth  too  well  the  look  of  the  mines,  the 
sharp  edge  of  the  sword,  the  bloody  cross.  All  that  man’s  flesh  is 
full  of  memories.” 

Sarcogenes  bowed  his  head  that  the  Lord  of  all  this  World  might 
not  see  the  fires  glowing  within  him.  Thought  he,  “May  my  other 
plans  against  the  Cyrenian  not  miscarry  so.”  But  Caesar  believed 
the  posture  was  a  calm  resignation  unto  the  will  of  him,  Caesar. 

And  there  were  in  Caesar’s  mind  other  reasons  for  the  which  he 
would  not  wholly  dispose  of  this  Simon  of  Gyrene,  as,  to  wit,  that 
often  he,  Caesar,  was  troubled  in  his  dreams  (even  as  were  a  many 
of  his  people  also)  wherein  he  was  holden  to  task  by  Jehovah,  the 
God  of  Simon.  And  he  feared  Jehovah  exceedingly,  though,  for  the 
greater  part,  he  managed  not  to  think  of  Him. 

So  he  looked  upon  his  favorite,  Sarcogenes  (whom  he  loved)  and 
touched  him  with  his  hand,  and  said  unto  him:  “Be  not  downcast; 
for  I,  thy  Lord,  have  come  unto  thee  to  tell  thee  by  the  words  of  mine 
own  lips  that  I  have  purposed  further  revels  of  a  kind  in  which  thy 
soul  clelighteth.  Moreover,  as  oft  of  yore,  I  would  have  thee  plan  these 
revels.  Let  them  be  far  greater  than  any  in  the  past.  Thou  shalt 
have  the  money — fear  not.  Simon  of  Cyrene  shall  pay.” 

Sarcogenes  kissed  the  hand  of  Caesar,  saying:  “I  was  wrong.” 
But,  in  his  heart,  his  hatred  of  the  Jew  had  increased. 

Caesar  perceived  his  mind,  and  said:  “Why  hatest  thou  this 
Simon  of  Cyrene  so?  I  have  heard  thou  art  thyself  of  a  sect  of  the 
Jews.” 

Sarcogenes  arose  with  a  piercing  cry,  and  pressed  his  hand  over 
his  heart,  as  though  the  hand  were  a  veritable  shield  against  some 
arrow.  And  when  he  could  again  speak,  he  said :  “It  is  nothing  but 
a  sickness  I  have  had  from  of  old — a  certain  pain —  It  is  nothing — 
Yes,  truly,  I  am  a  Christian,  for  the  Christians  are  a  sect  of  Jewry 
which  is  hated  of  the  Jews.  Also,  I  find  it  profitable  to  know  these 
Christians:  for  thus  do  I  secure  both  for  thee  and  for  me  certain 
advantages  over  those  foolish  people.  Thinkest  thou  I  really  believe 
on  Christ?” 

Then  he  screamed  again,  and  again  did  lay  his  hand  upon  his  heart 
and  bow  himself.  Again  he  said  unto  his  Lord,  “It  is  nothing.” 

“Thy  pain  remindeth  me,”  said  Caesar,  “that  I  have  heard  great 
tales  of  thy  cruelty  unto  thy  servants,  and  of  great  screams  which 
have  been  heard  from  thy  house.” 

<• 

“I  have  flayed  servants  alive,  the  worser  thereof,  whenever  it 
was  necessary,  Lord.” 


A  PROMINENT  MAN 


365 


“Oh  well,  whenever  it  seemeth  necessary.  We  must  not  be  too 
merciful.  Think  out  thy  plan  for  the  revels,  Comes,  and  let  me  know 
thy  thought.  As  to  thee  and  the  Jew,  cause  me  to  perceive  which 
one  of  you  best  deserveth  my  favors.”  He  was  gone. 

Sarcogenes  went  and  stood  in  a  place  of  watching.  He  beheld 
that  Cassar,  being  now  without  the  domus,  had  joined  unto  himself 
Thanatos,  in  the  midst  of  all  his  servants. 

Then  returned  Sarcogenes,  and  stood  with  his  back  to  his  own  way 
of  entrance,  and  his  face  in  the  way  of  all  the  rest  of  his  house.  Like 
Lucifer  he  was:  tall  and  lithe  and  dark  and  bright,  and,  in  a  way, 
beautiful.  Then  said  he,  “The  curses  of  Satan  on  this  day.  But, 
first  of  all,  I  will  set  my  secret  agents  at  their  work,  reserving  for 
a  later  hour  the  more  pleasant  things.  He  strook  upon  a  gong,  and 
when  the  servant  had  come,  said  to  him :  ‘  ‘  Give  thou  commands  that 
the  keeper  of  my  gates  shall  be  beaten  upon  the  feet  until  he  dieth, 
for  that,  today,  he  hath  admitted  unto  my  house  one  who  said  dis¬ 
agreeable  things.” 

Said  the  servant,  “It  shall  be  done.” 

Sarcogenes  stalked  to  a  distant  apartment,  and  closed  the  door. 
Not  a  sound  could  be  heard,  more  than  in  the  heart  of  a  forgotten 

hill. 

He  went  to  a  panel  in  the  stone  wall  and  pressed,  and  the  panel 
slid,  and  behold!  an  enormous  concourse  of  motley  peoples  came 
flocking  into  the  room.  And  arranged  themselves,  and  stood  at  at¬ 
tention.  All  their  eyes  did  hang  upon  the  lips  of  him,  Sarcogenes. 
And  all  these  peoples  were  afraid  to  come  anigh  unto  him,  because 
of  the  lightnings  of  his  countenance. 

Then  began  the  Masterful  to  give  instructions  about  the  day. 

Unto  one  man  he  saith,  “There  dwelleth  deep  within  the  Subura 
a  plebeian  known  as  Stultus,  ignorant,  untrained,  inconsecrate.  Him 
thou  eanst  not  spoil,  but  him  thou  mavest  use  for  deeds  of  lechery 
and  violence.  Turn  thou  him  into  an  instrument — ”  He  leaned  and 
whispered  in  his  henchman’s  ear,  who  smiled  sweetly  for  that  he  had 
been  whispered  to  by  so  great  a  lord. 

Went  the  fellow  forth  at  once,  and  Sarcogenes  calleth  unto  him 
three  others — Pandarus,  Sycophantus,  and  Kleptes.  Said  the  Master, 
“Ye  all  do  know  the  things  which  have  been  done  unto  you  by  him 
that  sought  to  reform  you  by  violence,  even  Philedonus  of  old. 
Listen.”  He  stooped  and  whispered  his  plot.  Then  louder,  “There 
is  a  Candidus  also.  He  dwelleth  on  the  Pincian  Hill.  Him  hate  I. 
See  thou  unto  him.  An  upright  man,  he  may  at  the  first  rebel ;  but, 


366 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


after  a  little,  lie  will  justify  the  deed  and  take  the  bribe.  Be  gone. — 
Pornographus  ?  ’  ’ 

“Master.” 

“Knowest  thou  Integer,  a  knight?” 

‘  *  I  know  him. ’  ’ 

“Thou  canst  easily  guess  the  will  which  I  would  have  thee  work 
upon  him.” 

“I  guess.” 

“A  hypocritical  appearance  of  austerity  and  Christian  love.  If 
that  succeed  not,  the  mask  aside,  and  all  the  arts  thou  knowest.  Se¬ 
duce  him.  Be  gone. 

“Cain  and  Judas  be  my  guide!  Now  whom  shall  I  select  for  the 
Trans-Tiber?  Fellow!  Thou!  Come  here.  In  the  Regio  Judeorum 
— see  unto  it  that  on  every  day  Parush  becometh  more  ‘ separate,’ 
that  the  old  horse-leech,  Alukah,  sucketh  ever  harder  and  more  hard ; 
that  Keseel  is  daily  and  hourly  more  a  fool;  Na-aph  more  concupi¬ 
scent,  and  Gannab  a  thief.  Away ! 

“As  for  Philautia,  let  me  see — thou,  Madam.  Thou  art  in  her 
employ.”  He  whispered,  “Delicate  snares  for  her.  She  is  Caesar’s 
wife.  Yes,  yes;  thou  art  correct.  Those  are —  Simple  whispers  in 
the  ear.  She  is  Caesar’s  wife.  Whispers,  infinite  suggestion — thou 
knowest. 

“Now  come  thou,  sirrah!  Nay,  thou.”  By  these  words  he  called 
unto  him  a  man  of  his  own  hewing  and  polishing.  To  him  he  gave 
a  bag  of  gold,  promising  yet  other  bags  and  heavier,  in  case  a  cer¬ 
tain  work  (whereof  he  whispered  most  slyly  in  his  ear)  were  done 
successfully.  “Vengeance  is  sweet  to  me,”  said  he,  at  length.  “Forget 
not,  I  will  not  forget  thee.” 

But  as  soon  as  the  man  had  departed  (which  he  did,  saying  “I 
know  where  all  the  others  can  be  found,  and  will  not  mention  thy 
name  to  any  of  them”)  then  called  Sarcogenes  another  man,  saying 
in  the  softest  of  whispers :  1 1  Follow  thou  after  him  fleetly,  and  see 
where  he  goeth.  If  he  do  a  certain  deed  of  crime,  speak  thou  not 
unto  him  concerning  it,  but  catch  him  in  a  secret  place,  and  there 
despatch  him,  so  that  he  may  not  return  to  me  or  come  again  anigh 
this  house.” 

He  gave  the  man  money,  and  the  man  promised  to  do  as  he  had 
been  instructed,  and  departed  quickly  and  yet  warily.  And  indeed 
they  had  all  gone  forth  by  the  secret  door  in  the  wall. 

Then  calleth  the  Tempter  of  Our  Brethren  a  mighty  group  of 
delators  and  secret  agents  up  before  him,  some  of  whom  laid  in  his 
hands  little  scrolls  containing  reports,  and  were  given  yet  other 


A  PROMINENT  MAN 


367 


commissions  to  perform  upon  that  day,  or  upon  other  days.  And  he 
gave  unto  them  all  certain  commands,  saying  to  each:  “It  is  my 
will,”  or  else  “I  will  have  this  done:  see  thou  unto  it.”  And  then 
to  the  whole  body  he  cried,  “Be  on  your  ways.  Stop  not,  any  of  you, 
for  aught  at  all — for  rain  or  for  dust,  for  mud  or  for  cold,  heat  or 
night  or  terrible  tempest.  And  wherever  ye  do  go,  sneer  ye  and  jeer 
ye  at  this  Simon  of  Cyrene  and  at  Christ — them  twain  crucifers. 
Go — shatter,  decay,  burn,  seduce,  transfix,  kill,  damn  utterly.” 

And  they  left  him,  and  he  passed,  foaming  with  a  rage  which,  till 
now,  he  had  just  been  able  to  conceal,  into  the  courts  where  his  slaves 
were. 

He  took  them  at  their  various  works,  and  tortured  them.  Of  the 
one  he  struck  an  ear  off,  of  another  a  hand,  and  yet  another,  who 
ventured  to  oppose  him,  he  cast  upon  the  ground,  vomiting  language 
which  had  come  from  the  refuse  of  all  the  tongues  of  earth.  Him  he 
beat  with  a  tribulum,  and,  afterwards,  flayed  alive. 

And  his  servants  fled  before  him  through  all  the  passages  of  his 
house. 

And  when  the  Seducer  of  Our  Brethren  had  glutted  his  lust  for 
suffering,  he  went  into  a  secret  apartment  where  none  did  follow,  and, 
closing  the  door,  stood  for  a  time  with  his  great  hands  clasped  behind 
his  back,  and  his  eyes  upturned  to  heaven. 

“Almighty  God,”  he  said,  at  length,  “I  hate  thee.  Tyrant  of  the 
universe,  ’tis  thou  I  despise.  How  I  hate  you  also,  ye  illimitable 
legions  of  angels.” 

The  man  threw  up  his  hands  once  more,  clutching  at  his  bosom. 
He  said,  “I  seem  to  have  in  me  a  lump  of  ice  for  a  heart.  Blessed 
Lucifer,  guide  thou  me  to  a  cure  for  this.” 

He  went  and  stood  before  a  polished  pier  of  metal.  Rending  the 
clothing  from  his  breast,  he  beheld  in  the  mirror,  directly  over  his 
heart,  a  deep  cavern  of  corruption,  which  made  him  faintish.  He 
applied  to  the  place  a  hot  iron.  Then  said  he,  “I  am  ever  worse 
within.  How  come  I  to  be  so?  How,  rather,  else?  I  believe  on  Christ 
and  tremble,  yet — 

“Ah  Satan,  thou  art  my  god,  mayhap  my  father  in  the  flesh.  Who 
wast  thou,  really,  0  my  father,  and  thou,  my  mother  also?  None 
know.  Shepherds,  ye  found  me  in  a  cave,  dwelling  with  vipers.  The 
snakes  ye  killed,  but  me  ye  took  with  you  into  your  home.  Later, 
ye  wished  ye  had  taken  the  vipers.  There  was  a  tlieka  about  my 
neck.  Afterward,  in  Babylon,  the  chief  of  the  temple-prostitutes 
did  claim  me  as  her  son— a  certain  Theomachus,  or  Fighter  against 


368 


SIMON  OF  GYRENE 


God,  being  (slie  said)  my  sire.  Soon  went  she  in  the  way  of  all  that 
stand  in  my  path. 

“Then  came  my  wanderings — Egypt,  Asia,  Gaul,  Hispania,  Rome, 
all  the  varied  corners  of  this  mundane  universe.  For  a  time  a 
maker  and  seller  of  foul  images,  a  hired  and  willing  assassin,  a  priest 
in  many  temples,  here  and  yon;  a  delator  unto  Caasar;  the  chief 
delator  and  accuser  of  all  good ;  and  now — thanks  to  the  interest  and 
manners  of  myself,  a  companion  of  the  Prince,  even  Caesar,  Lord  of 
all  this  World.” 

He  went  and  opened  the  door,  and  looked  out  into  the  court, 
thinking  he  had  heard  secret  footsteps.  But  all  was  silent  and  devoid 
of  motion — saving  one  great,  sliding  star,  which  went  down  out  of  the 
zenith  and  into  an  unfathomable  gloom. 

The  man  shuddered,  and  went  within  again. 

“Thou,  0  Christ,  sometimes  I  love  thee.”  So  he  mused.  “But 
thou  art  the  Ancient  of  Days.  A  tyrant!  Wilt  thou  brook  a  friend¬ 
ship?  No;  thou  art  too  solitary!  Wouldst  thou  go  forth  with  me 
in  a  bout  at  drinking  ?  Nay — not  a  companion.  Then  to  thyself,  and 
I —  Hast  thou  made  a  perfect  universe,  having  the  power?  No.  It 
is  so  full  of  error  and  wrrong  I  laugh  always  at  it  and  at  thee.  Yea, 
in  thy  face  I  tell  thee  thy  work  was  not  good.  And  thine  image! 
Thou  madest  man  in  thine  own  image — laughter  of  Satan.  What  is 
man? 

“Hadst  thou  not  power  upon  thy  side,  0  Ancient  of  Days,  I  say 
it  plainly  unto  thee —  But  no!  I  will  up  and  down  in  the  streets 
of  the  world.  Here  a  word,  there  a  syllable !  How  I  hate —  Mostly 
I  hate  the  Jew.  Also  Christopherus  and  his  kind.  What  about  the 
Jew?  I  had  nearly  forgotten  thee,  Jew. 

“Why  dost  thou  prosper,  contemptible  Simon  of  Cyrene,  man  of 
little  talent,  fool,  enthusiast,  ape?  Thine  indefinite  and  unapproach¬ 
able  tyrant,  Jehovah,  doth  He  ever  and  again  renew  thy  strength? 
Canst  thou  not  wear  out,  even  when  illimitable  woes  are  placed  upon 
thee?  And  why,  Jehovah,  dost  thou  sit  upon  thy  solitary  throne, 
creating  world  after  world,  constellation  after  constellation,  universe 
after  universe?  Art  thou  not  weary  of  time  and  space,  which  flow 
forever  from  thine  infinite,  unreasonable  bosom?  Why  dost  thou 
create  new  streams  of  beings,  whose  happiest  lot  in  universes  like  these 
were  only  to  die,  never  to  live  again. 

“And  yet  thou  makest  them  to  live  again! 

“Now,  as  to  thee,  0  Jew.  I  did  tempt  thy  father,  Shem,  and 
cause  his  fearful  downfall,  and  that  of  his  father  before  him  also. 
For  lo!  I  am  older  than  a  many  believe.  And  thee,  0  Simon  of 


A  PROMINENT  MAN 


369 


Cyrene,  thee  I  tempted  both  in  Egypt  by  Emah,  and  again  (when 
I  knew  thee  better)  in  old  Petra,  where  I  had  thee.  And  then,  in 
Palestine — thou  didst  tempt  thyself.  Then  again,  when  thou  hadst 
been  fully  castigated  (by  thy  Lord)  away  from  all  images  forever, 
in  the  belly  of  the  Babylonia,  then  didst  thou  make  for  thyself,  being 
returned  to  Canaan,  yet  a  substitute  for  images,  and  didst  worship  the 
foolish  multiplications  of  thy  law.  ‘Shall  a  man  be  justified  if  he 
do  eat  of  an  egg  that  was  laid  upon  the  Sabbath  V  Now  by  the  gods 
of  laughter!  And,  in  these  later  days,  thou  makest  yet  another  idol 
out  of  thy  fear  of  Christianity:  thou  dost  worship  that  fear. 

“Thou  bearest  the  cross — ” 

He  stood  by  a  pillar  and  leaned  on  it,  lost  in  gloomy  recollections. 

He  pulled  a  silken  cord.  A  gong  rang,  a  far  door  opened,  and 
there  appeared,  walking  down  the  scarlet  stretches  of  the  room,  that 
man  he  had  sent  in  the  morning  after  yet  another  man,  to  slay  him. 
He  said  to  the  man,  when  that  he  had  come  close  up:  “Knowest 
thou  Simon  of  Cyrene?”  “Yea,  Lord,  I  know  him.”  “Then — ” 
He  leaned  close  over  and  whispered,  saying,  at  the  close:  “Now  go.” 

Sarcogenes  erieth,  when  the  man  was  well  away:  “May  his  arms 
wither;  his  Jewish  heart  melt;  his  bones  be  crumbling  wax;  his  reason 
totter;  yea  and  fall  into  nothing,  and  his  soul  perish  in  the  fires  of 
Gehenna.  Curse  thou  him,  0  Satan,  in  the  name  of  all  evil.” 

His  voice  dropped  to  a  hoarse  whisper,  and  he  kept  conversing 
with  some  imaginary  presence  at  which  he  vainly  shook  his  daggered 
fist  from  time  to  frequent  time.  “In  sin  and  craft  and  sorrow  hast 
thou  worked,  0  Simon  of  Cyrene,  yea  and  in  worse  sorrow,  sin,  and 
cunning  thou  shalt  die.” 


CHAPTER  XLIII 
The  Man  Without  a  Face 

Meantime,  in  the  atrium  of  Simon,  peace  had  settled  down,  and 
Simon’s  clients  had  got  their  sportulaa  and  gone.  And  Simon  had 
hearkened  to  the  complaints  of  a  many  of  his  servants,  and  settled 
their  morepart  foolish  grievances.  And  all  the  while  he  had  kept 
the  tail  of  his  eye  upon  the  man  whose  face  was  muffled  with  a 
bandage — all  but  his  strange,  sweet  eyes.  At  length  he  saw  that  that 
shambling  person  was  working  nearer  and  nearer  to  the  exit. 

Cried  Simon,  “Why  earnest  thou  in  hither,  sirrah?  Was  it,  thou 
mightest  torment  me?” 

24 


370 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


The  man  began  to  run.  But  servants  catched  him,  and  brought 
him  to  the  lord  of  the  house. 

“Strip  off  thy  bandage/ ’  said  the  Master. 

The  man  groaned,  lifted  not  his  hand. 

Then  bade  the  Master  his  servants  to  take  the  bandage  off. 

This  they  did,  and  there  stood  before  them  all — a  man  without  a 
face. 

Looked  Simon  of  Gyrene  upon  the  man  during  long  moments,  for 
the  face  was  a  char,  a  red,  cicatricial  mask  of  shapelessness.  But,' 
in  time,  the  eyes  spake  to  him ;  for  there  was  in  their  depths  the  idle 
blueness  of  a  summer  sky,  yet  a  grayish  earnestness  also,  and  love. 
At  length  the  Master:  “It  may  have  been  in  a  dream  I  saw  thee,  O 
strange  man,  as  thou  standest  there  even  now  by  my  dais.  Or  ere 
this  minute  have  I  seen  thee  so.  And  behold !  from  the  beginning 
of  time  it  hath  been  decreed  I  should  look  upon  thee  as  thou  standest 
there — for  who  can  avoid  the  sentence  of  the  Almighty?” 

“I  chose  to  be  here,”  said  the  man.  “It  was  my  own  free  will 
that  bade  me  to  come.” 

“But  I  chose  not,”  said  Simon;  “yet  I  am  quite  as  near  unto 
thee  as  thou — ” 

At  this,  the  tuneful  tone  of  the  old  slave  by  the  water  clock  brake 
in,  both  solemn  and  sweet :  ‘  ‘  Time,  the  mysterious  gift,  is  fast  a-going ; 
yet  there  are  happy,  happy  hours  that  are  still  to  be.” 

“Thou  didst  choose?”  said  Simon. 

“I  chose.”  The  man  without  a  face  did  not  quite  look  at  the 
Master,  and  he  gazed  not,  either,  at  any  of  the  others  round  about. 

Then  there  came  confusion  into  the  mind  of  Simon,  confusion 
and  many  disorderly  images,  for  he  tried  to  remember  if  ever  he  had 
beheld  this  strangest  man  before.  Some  of  the  pictures  were  near 
and  some  distant,  some  clearly  seen,  some  only  hinted:  others  were 
mere  mists  or  shadows  which  one  mist  will  cast  upon  another.  Christo- 
pherus?  Lampadephorus  ?  Amahnah?  Glimpses,  hints,  echoes,  sug¬ 
gestions — nothing. 

The  man  said  again,  “I  chose.”  And  the  Master  noted  that  the 
voice  was  husky  and  a  little  trembling. 

“He  saith  he  would  be  as  a  servant  to  thee,  0  Simon,  perchance 
thy  steward  also — on  a  future  day,”  said  some  of  them  around  the 
Master. 

“What  wouldst  thou  do?”  asked  Simon  of  Cyrene.  “Bather, 
what  canst  thou?” 

“Try,”  said  the  man  without  a  face. 


A  PROMINENT  MAN 


371 


The  Master  was  pleased,  yet,  to  test  the  man,  he  pretended  con¬ 
trariwise.  ‘  ‘  Try  what  ?  ’  ’ 

‘‘To  serve  thee — thee  and  all  the  people  in  thy  house,  all  whom¬ 
soever  I  may  meet  here  or  elsewhere.  I  would  serve  them,  I  would 
truly  attempt  it.  ’  ’  As  he  spake,  he  grew  somewhat  bolder.  He  looked 
in  the  eye  of  Simon  with  confident  pleading,  also  with  great  concern 
and  compassion,  as  if  there  were  here — behind  that  strange  offence 
of  countenance — not  only  a  willing  servant  but  a  kindly  lord. 

Simon  was  moved.  Therefore  said  he,  partly  because  he  would 
not  have  it  seem  that  he  was  moved:  “Prithee  to  pardon  me — I  have 
to  inquire.  Thy  nothingness  of  countenance,  why  hast  thou — ” 

The  man  looked  straightforwardly  upon  Simon,  and  answered 
and  said  unto  him :  “  It  is,  in  part,  because  I  had  little  of  individuality 
to  begin  with;  in  part,  because,  in  the  struggle  for  pay  (and  all  men 
struggle  therefor)  I  lost  the  little  countenance  I  had.  I  am  but  a 
common  man,  0  Master,  a  foolish  average,  a  cicatricial  blank.  Who 
shall  struggle  with  Mammon — struggle  for  existence — and  not —  Yet 
may  I  be  of  a  certain  use  unto  thee,  and,  God  willing — ” 

But  the  Master  brake  in.  “Didst  thou  not  destroy  thy  face  that 
thou  mightest  thereby  screen  the  rest  of  thee  from  some  undesired 
recognition  ?  ’  ’ 

“Nay,  Master.  I  was  injured — the  unjust — even  as  thou — ” 

“Thy  nationality?” 

“I  am  partly  Cappadocian  and  partly  German;  partly  Italian  and 
partly — I  know  not  what — partly  Gaul — ” 

“Gaul.  Art  thou,  then,  worshipper  of  Cernunnos — a  follower  of 
the  Druids?” 

The  man  without  a  face  swallowed  thrice  and  spake  no  word,  as 
if  he  feared  to  say  to  the  Jew  concerning  his  religion.  But  Simon, 
perceiving  the  embarrassment,  said:  “Needst  not  answer.  Some  of 
my  servants  are  Christians,  yet  do  I  trouble  them  not.  If  only  they 
obey  the  maxims  of  Noah — understandest  thou?” 

“Yea.” 

“Their  religions  are  their  own  affair. — Thy  name?” 

But  the  man  without  a  face  said :  “  I  will  give  thee  merely  a  name 
which  I  myself  of  late  have  chosen.  It  is  Conatus,  an  Attempt.  For 
behold,  this  is  all  I  am.” 

Quoth  Simon,  “Get  thee  down,  Conatus,  to  yonder  court.  Thou 
wilt  see  there  a  great  chest.  Bring  it  hither  unto  me.” 

The  man  went  forth,  and  brought  the  chest. 

“Set  it  yonder.” 

Conatus  set  the  great  box  down. 


372 


SIMON  OF  GYRENE 


“Is  it  heavy ?” 

“Not  now,  Master. ” 

So  the  Jew  saw  that  the  man  was  disinclined  to  remember  hard¬ 
ships,  and  that,  withal,  he  was  cheerful  enough,  and,  in  a  way  witty. 
Yet,  still,  the  Master  dissembled.  Said  he,  “Wilt  thou  be  as  thy 
predecessor,  he  whom  I  so  carefully  chose — thoughtless,  indifferent, 
abstracted,  forgetful,  absentminded,  slipshod,  unsystematic,  traitorous 
to  my  interests  ?  But  no,  I  see  thou  wouldst  be  worse.  ’  ’ 

“I  would  guard  thee,”  cried  the  man,  “thee  and  others  if  I 
might — and  keep  away  evil — ” 

“Swear  thou  wilt  guard  me  faithfully,  wilt  work  no  woe  on  me 
or  on  my  house.” 

Conatus  sware. 

But  Simon  moaned.  “My  heart  misdoubts.  I  think  thou  art  a 
man  of  craft  unusual,  and  that  evil  will  come — perchance  some  kind 
of  idolatry.  Therefore,  I  will  reject — but  whither  art  thou?” 

The  man  stepped  back,  dropping  his  head,  as  if  he  attempted  to 
remember  a  story  he  had  made  up.  Again  he  looked  bravely  forth, 
and,  sighing,  merely  answered:  “Life’s  storms.  They  have  driven 
me  across  the  world  and  all —  I — about  it.  Misunderstood — not  suc¬ 
cessful  working  for  myself — the  mines,  the  terrible  mines.  Say  fur¬ 
ther?  The  mines — I  am  a  fearful — I  have  failed.” 

And  Simon  looked  upon  the  man  and  read  him,  though  he  had 
no  face.  The  wounded  pride,  the  unequal  will,  the  yet  lingering 
shadow  of  a  horrible  past,  all  life’s  bruises  and  burdens,  even  the 
mines!  He  understood.  “Come  thou,”  said  he. 

Then  took  he  the  man  without  a  face  into  numerous  parts  of  his 
house,  shewing  and  explaining,  and  reaching  unto  him  bunches  of 
keys.  Doors  opened  softly  before  them.  They  climbed  stairs, 
threaded  innumerable  and  seemingly  immeasurable  corridors  (wherein 
no  god  was  seen)  went  into  court  after  court,  room  after  room — 
even  secret  crypts  were  a  little  pointed  out.  But  the  secretest  portions 
of  the  house,  these  showed  the  Master  not  unto  Conatus  for  the 
present. 

At  length  said  Simon,  1 1  Now  I  will  give  thee  the  last  of  the  keys.  ’  ’ 

Shook  the  hand  of  Conatus,  as  he  received  the  keys.  And  the 
Master  thought,  “It  is  well.  I  think  I  understand  thy  nature.” 

And  Simon  new  apparelled  the  man,  and  fed  him  abundantly. 
Then  saith,  “Thou  needest  not  hide  thy  countenance,  or  be  in  any 
wise  ashamed  of  it,  for  it  is  not  thy  work  but  that  of  the  unjust.  And 
thou  shalt  be  in  my  house  my  steward,  my  aeditus,  and,  in  the  street, 
my  nomenclator. 


A  PROMINENT  MAN 


373 


“And  this,”  continued  the  Master,  “is  the  time  of  week  when  I 
go  forth  to  the  Trans-Tiber  that  I  may  give  alms.” 

Therefore  servants  came,  bringing  heavy  baskets,  and  they  all 
went  forth  of  the  house,  bearing  the  baskets.  Simon  and  his  nomen- 
clator  walked  side  by  side :  and  in  front,  those  of  the  familia  known 
as  anteambulatores ;  behind,  the  pedisequii. 

And  they  fetched,  this  little,  well-meaning  caravan,  a  compass 
round  about  the  Forum,  for  the  Master  said  to  Conatus:  “It  is  not, 
this  day,  a  business  day  for  me.”  Yet  they  went  forth  to  the  Yicus 
Tuscus,  the  old-time  shopping  street,  for,  as  Simon  said,  it  was  here 
he  had  fought  his  mightiest  battles  or  ere  he  had  had  Ca3sar’s  favor, 
and  also  because  of  the  frankincense  and  other  perfumes  which  were 
sold  there,  and  which  he  snuffed  up  eagerly.1 

They  came  to  a  synagogue,  which  was  this  side  Tiber,  and  there 
they  left  certain  baskets.  Wherefrom  they  wound  about  the  Forum 
Boarium  and  were  then  heading  for  the  Pons  Fabricius. 

Said  the  Master,  “Conatus.” 

“Yea,  Master.” 

“Be  thine  eyes  sharp?” 

“Very  sharp  indeed,  Master.” 

“Look  thither,  then,  at  yon  fast-passing  litter,  and  tell  me  who 
be  they  that  sit  within. ’  ’ 1 

“Why,  I  can  do  that  easily,  Master.  There  are  twain  within  the 
litter,  the  Spirit  of  the  World  and  the  bad  Christian.” 

“All  Christians  are  bad,  good  Conatus.” 

Conatus  fell  silent.  Then  said  he,  “But  Ophidion  (or,  as  he 
called  himself  in  his  Christian  days,  ‘Sarcogenes’)  is  especially  bad, 
O  Master,  even  as  a  Christian. — And  now  he  smileth  and  holdeth  up 
his  fingers  before  Caesar  in  the  form  of  a  Latin  cross,  then  looketh 
back  at  thee.  Oh,  there  is  yet  another  in  the  litter,  Master — one  that 
sitteth  lean  and  sullen  in  his  corner.  Now  he  draweth  back  his  bony 
countenance  into  the  loose  folds  of  his  hood,  which  thereupon  doth 
seem  as  it  were  only  a  great  bag  filled  with  an  empty  shadow  of 
nothing. 9  9 

“I  thank  thee,  Conatus.  Let  us  hurry  to  the  bridge.” 

“May  I  speak,  Master?” 

“Surely,  good  Conatus.” 

4 4 1  would  tell  thee  what  I  heard  in  a  wine-house  on  the  day  I  came 
to  Borne.” 

4 4 What  heardest  thou?” 

1  On  the  Jew’s  love  of  perfumes  and  poreblindness,  see  such  works  as  “The 
Jewish  Encyclopedia,”  also  Ball’s  “Modern  Ophthalmology,”  3d  ed.,  p.  739. 


374 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


“This  man,  Sarcogenes.  He  sate  before  a  crowd  of  the  vilest  in 
the  place,  and  did  abuse  thee  shamefully.  Oh,  he  is  not  any  friend 
of  thine,  my  Master.  Saith  he  to  the  crowd,  ‘Hast  thou  seen  the 
chambers  in  the  Jew’s  great  house — that  which  he  truly  budded  not, 
but  merely  made  over.  And  how  indeed  hath  he  made  it  over,  the 
dwelling  wherein  did  once  abide  even  Lampadephorus,  the  illustrious 
Greek !  He  hath  filled  it  with  flaming  colors  which  sicken  the  stomach, 
and  with  platings  of  silver  and  gold,  that  the  eyes  may  be  dazzled.’ 

“Then  said  one  Defectus,  which  stood  near:  ‘He  hath  a  poor 
eye  for  color,  Lord,  even  as  have  all  Jews.  And  he  seeth  no  color 
at  all,  save  only  that  it  be  a  strong  one.’ 

“Then  saith  Sarcogenes,  ‘Tell  me,  philosopher,  why  it  is  there  is 
not  in  all  his  house  any  likeness  of  any  god — picture,  or  statue,  or 
bas-relief.  Now,  why  is  that?’ 

“  ‘I  can  tell  thee,  Lord,’  saith  Defectus.  ‘The  man  is  impious, 
and  serveth  not  the  gods.  He  should  be  run  out  from  the  city.’ 

“But  Ridiculus  and  Mobilis  and  Yulgus,  all  of  whom  did  also 
stand  nigh,  watching  the  great  lord,  even  Sarcogenes — then  said 
these:  ‘He  hath  one  god,  this  Simon  of  Cyrene,  a  Hebrew  god, 
Christ.’ 

“At  this  I  was  like  to  have  fainted,  Master;  for,  0  Master,  the 
Lord  Sarcogenes — ” 

“What  is  that  upon  the  bridge,  Conatus?”  brake  in  the  Master. 

Conatus  gazed  at  the  bridge  for  a  time,  then  saith :  ‘  ‘  There  is  on 
the  bridge  a  crowd.  Beyond  the  bridge  yet  another,  on  the  island.” 

“Beggars?” 

“Belike.  They  have  a  way,  these  mendicants  of  thronging  about 
the  bridges  and  in  the  narrower — ” 

‘  ‘  Let  us  be  good  to  them,  Conatus :  they  are  needy.  ’  ’ 

“But  keep  the  better  portion  of  our  givings  for  the  sons  of 
Abraham.  ’  ’ 

“For  the  sons  of  Abraham.  It  is  right.  For  the  sons  of 
Abraham.  ’  ’ 

“But,  Master.” 

“What,  Conatus?” 

‘  ‘  I  saw,  just  now,  as  I  thought,  a  little  in  the  rear  of  those  people, 
the  shadowy  Thanatos.  But  sure  I  cannot  be — he  is  too  wavering. 
And — Master — one  of  those  beggars  which  be  upon  the  bridge,  ariseth, 
standeth  straight  and  proud,  and  stretcheth  a  right  hand  out,  giving 
orders  unto  others.” 

“Well?” 

“Such  do  not  beggars  use  to  do.” 


A  PROMINENT  MAN 


375 


‘ 4  It  is  certain. — Conatus.  ’  ’ 

“I  hear,  Master.’ ’ 

“Belike  we  are  in  much  danger,  but  we  shall  turn  not  back.  Call 
thou  the  anteambulatores,  and  send  them  to  the  rear  of  us  to  join 
the  pedisequii.  ” 

‘  ‘  Master !  ’  ’ 

“As  I  tell  thee.  For  then  we  shall  be  in  the  front.  If  the 
anteambulatores  were  first  attacked  (as  they  surely  would  be,  if  kept 
before  us)  would  they  not  flee?  And  then  would  flee  the  pedisequii 
also,  and  we  should  be  left  to  do  battle  alone,  both  thou  and  I. 
But—” 

“Master !” 

“But,  if  we  do  battle  manfully,  and  show  our  servants  the  thing 
that  is  right  for  them  to  do,  then  will  they  follow  our  ensample,  and 
we  shall  have  victory  beyond  doubt.” 

“Master!” 

“What,  Conatus?” 

“I  am  afeard.” 


CHAPTER  XLIV 
No  Rest 

“Get  thee  behind  me,”  said  Simon  to  his  servant,  “for  now  I  go 
upon  the  bridge.  And  fear  nothing,  for  I  am  a  dimachasrus,  taught 
by  Lampadephorus  of  ancient  Athens.  And  the  Lord  is  also  with 
me  on  this  day. — But,  as  to  these  buildings,  many  might,  it  is  true, 
have  been  builded  better —  What  wouldest  thou  with  me,  sirrah?” 

4  ‘  An  alms,  good  sir !  0  Lord  of  high  magnificence,  a  little  alms.  ’  ’ 

“Mine  almoner  cometh  in  the  rear,  sirrah.  He  will  greatly  aid 
thee — without  mention —  What  wouldst  thou  at  my  throat?” 

And  behold,  the  men  of  Belial  were  all  upon  Simon. 

But  Simon  had  taken  his  swords  from  underneath  his  garments, 
and  now  circled  them  about  in  deadly  paths. 

Then  ran  one  of  the  men  behind  Simon,  and  would  truly  have 
slain  him,  had  not  Conatus,  seeing  his  Master  in  great  danger,  out 
with  his  little  poniard  and  stricken  the  man. 

Then  gave  Conatus  a  mighty  cry  of  confidence,  and  shouted:  “I 
have  a  leader  that  knoweth  the  battle!”  He  stood  at  the  Master’s 
side,  and  fought  man  for  man  enduringly. 

And  all  the  servants  of  the  house  of  Simon,  when  they  saw  how 


376 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


well  the  Master  and  his  steward  did  fight,  ran  up  quickly  with  swords 
and  staves,  and  drove  the  villains  off  the  bridge. 

And  they  all,  even  Simon  and  the  servants  that  were  with  him, 
went  on  into  the  Trans-Tiber,  and  gave  their  gifts.  And  coming 
back  across  the  bridge  in  the  dead  night,  they  met  no  one  but 
Defectus,  who  said  unto  Simon:  “It  is  Sarcogenes  who  hath  done  this 
thing,  Sarcogenes  the  Christian.”  For  he  sought  reward  of  Simon. 

But  Simon  answered  (because,  in  his  heart,  he  despised  the  man)  : 
“A  thing  is  patent  to  the  world,  0  Defectus,  when  it  is  seen  by  such 
as  thee.” 

Then  cried  Defectus,  losing  fear  because  of  anger:  “Is  it  even  so, 
Simon  of  Cyrene?  Know,  then,  I  hate  thee  terribly,  and  that,  on  a 
day,  I  will  give  mighty  evidence  against  thee.  Either  in  private  or 
in  public,  I  will  be  as  a  sword  in  thy  side.  Remember,  though  it  shall 
come  in  a  far  distant  day.” 

And  he  made  the  ciconia  after  him,  and  squealed  like  a  pig. 

But,  on  the  morrow,  Simon  received  at  the  hands  of  a  slave  a 
scroll  from  Caesar,  saying:  “I  am  sorry  about  this  thing,  and  have 
given  command  that  never  a  praetor  shall  have  jurisdiction  con¬ 
cerning  thee  about  it.  And  for  him  that  made  the  conspiracy,  I  will 
see  him  punished.  Fear  not:  thou  art  my  friend.” 

But  if  ever  Sarcogenes  or  other  man  were  punished  for  this  offense, 
no  news  thereof  came  to  the  ears  of  Simon.  And  Simon  knew  that 
Defectus  would  keep  his  word. 

Simon  also  feared  his  servant,  Conatus.  Though  he  loved  that 
man  and  had  seen  him  fight  manfully,  yet  feared  the  Master  him. 
For  he  said  in  his  heart,  “What  do  I  really  know  concerning  Con¬ 
atus  ?  ’  ’ 

He  therefore  went  about  to  test  his  servant. 

First  he  said  unto  him,  “Conatus!” 

“Thy  wish,  Lord.” 

“Wilt  thou  not  guard  me,  0  Conatus,  on  this  night?  For  behold! 
I  have  many  enemies.  And  now,  of  all  my  servants  can  I  trust  none, 
save  only  thee.” 

“I  will  endeavor,  Master.  But — should  Caesar  himself  come — ” 

“Thou  couldest  nothing  do  but  awake  me.” 

‘  ‘  Or  his  soldiers  ?  ’  ’ 

“Even  then  also.” 

“Or  the  great  Sarcogenes?” 

“Thou  couldst  still  nothing  do  but  awake  me.  Yet  have  I  many 
other  enemies  than  these.  With  them  thou  mightest  fight.  One,  of 
old,  in  far-off  Cyrenaica,  Trivialis  is  his  name —  Why  dost  thou 


A  PROMINENT  MAN 


377 


cough  and  turn  away  so?  Him  do  I  greatly  fear.  On  a  day,  when 
not  so  much  I  am  oppressed  with  business,  I  will  hunt  him  from  his 
hiding,  and  will  have  upon  him  a  sure  and  thorough  revenge.  ” 

“Thou  wouldst  not  kill  him,  Master!” 

“Thou  art  greatly  alarmed — for  such  a  man.” 

“I  knew  him — once.” 

“Thou!” 

“He  was  a  man  of  no  worth,  an  idler,  a  trifler.” 

“Just  so,  a  Mocker  too,  and  a  man  of  sudden  violence.” 

“Not  worthy  thy  metal  or  thy  blow,  Master — such  a  man.” 

4  4  Where  is  that  man  now  ?  ’  ’ 

4  4  Trivialis  ?  ’  * 

“Yea.” 

4  4  Gone  from  earth,  I  wot.  But  there  be  a  many  left  like  him.  He 
is  as  common  as  his  very  name,  Master.  Didst  truly  attempt  to  kill 
the  whole  tribe  of  him,  Trivialis,  thou  wouldst  need —  But  wouldst 
have  me  guard  thee,  Master?” 

Took  Simon  him,  and  showed  a  room,  the  which  he  declared  to 
be  his  most  secret,  yet  it  wTas  not  so.  And  he  set  his  servant  at  the 
door,  outside,  to  be  for  a  watch  and  guard  unto  him. 

But  behold!  he  gave  the  man  no  weapon  (for  this  he  had  reasons) 
and  placed  in  his  drink  a  potion  that  made  him  sleep. 

When,  then,  the  new  servant  was  found  slumbering,  his  master 
went  to  him,  and  shook  him,  and  called  him  loudly  into  consciousness. 

Said  the  Master,  4  4  0  new  servant,  that  wast  to  have  been  so  faith¬ 
ful  !  Dost  thou  so  protect  me,  and  stand  for  a  powerful  ward  between 
me  and  mine  enemies  ?  ’  ’ 

The  man  could  only  appear  astonied,  asking:  4 4 Have  I  slept? 
Have  I  slept?”  He  hung  his  head,  and  did  weep  and  sob  and  cry 
aloud,  4  4  Ah  woe  is  me !  I  had  intended  to  be  so  faithful.  ’  ’ 

4 4 And  dost  thou,”  asked  his  master,  4 4 admit  thou  wast  sleeping?” 

“I  slept,”  acknowledged  the  man.  44 1  truly  slept.  I  am  good 
for  nothing  whatever.  Kill  me  and  let  all  be  past.” 

But  the  Jew  said,  4  4  If  thou  dost  indeed  admit  thy  fault,  and  pre- 
tendest  not  that  thou  wast  wrnking  (which  many  a  man  would  have 
done)  then  art  thou  at  the  very  least  honest,  and  I  will  try  thee 
again.” 

He  tried  him  on  the  next  night,  and  sent  unto  him  another  servant, 
who  endeavored  to  buy  him  with  much  gold,  begging  but  for  a  chance 
to  enter  the  room  of  the  Master.  But  Conatus  cast  him,  and  bound 
him,  and  took  him  before  the  Master. 

And  on  the  third  night,  Simon  himself  slipped  out  of  his  sleeping- 


378 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


chamber  by  a  secret  way,  and  being  in  disguise  came  round  unto  the 
sentry,  and  attempted  to  catch  him  unaware.  But  this  he  could  not 
do.  But  Conatus  fell  upon  him  instead,  and  endeavored  to  bind  him. 

But  this  Conatus  could  not  do,  but  was  obliged  to  be  himself 
bound. 

Yet  all  the  while  he  kept  up  a  great  noise  and  clatter.  “ Master! 
Master!  A  thief  and  assassin!  0  my  Master!  And  I  not  able  to 
get  the  better  of  him.” 

Saith  the  pretended  assassin,  ‘  ‘  Thy  Master  can  no  wise  come  unto 
thee,  for  he  is  dead.  By  mine  own  hand  hath  he  perished.  But 
behold!  tell  me  certain  secrets  he  hath  confided  to  thee,  and  I  will 
reward  thee  richly.  Deny  me,  and  I  give  thee  death.” 

Conatus,  then,  answered:  “I  have  been  of  no  avail  at  all.  So  it 
is  well  I  should  perish.  Let  me  have  the  blade,  and  that  quickly.” 

At  this  the  Master  stripped  his  disguise  off,  and  cried:  “0  good 
and  faithful  watchman,  see!  I  am  thy  master,  even  Simon,  who 
did  fear  and  suspect  thee,  for  that  he  had  so  many  enemies.  But 
never  again  will  he  fear  thy  hand.  Take  thou,  therefore,  the  blade 
which,  hereafter,  shall  be  for  a  defence  both  unto  thee  and  unto  me.  ’  ’ 

He  gave  him  the  blade. 

And  Conatus  stood  in  the  presence  of  his  Master  with  head 
bowed  and  arms  crossed  over  his  breast  (as  was  the  way  of  slaves 
before  masters).  He  said  to  Simon,  “Let  us  go  before  the  praetor. 
Lay  thou  there  a  charge  of  indebtedness  against  me — for  I  indeed  am 
more  beholden  unto  thee  than  thou  canst  ever  know.” 

Simon  thought  that  the  man  did  mean  only  that  he,  Simon,  had 
given  unto  his  servant  a  shelter  and  the  office  of  steward  in  his  house. 
Yet  still  he  marvelled.  And  he  asked,  “Wouldst  thou  truly  be  my 
slave  ?  ’  ’ 

“So  would  I,”  quoth  the  servant.  “For,  in  service  to  myself,  I 
have  been  ever  a  failure.  Therefore  it  is  needful  I  should  serve  some 
other  man.  So,  too,  I  may  keep  from  sin.” 

“Knowest  thou  not  that  Jews  have  a  proverb,  ‘Three  kinds  of 
men  cause  their  own  misfortunes :  those  who  lend  money  without  wit¬ 
nesses,  those  who  are  ruled  by  their  wives,  and  those  who  go  into 
slavery  by  their  own  will’?” 

‘  ‘  I  have  no  money  to  lend,  Master ;  nor  have  I  now  a  wife.  I  can 
therefore  be  but  the  third  part  of  as  big  a  fool  as  some  men  might. 
Am  I  not  a  better  than  the  average?” 

“Thou  art  witty  withal.  We  shall  be  in  time  companions.  Yet 
if  thou  choosest  once  again,  I  will  take  thee  to  the  praetor.” 

“I  choose  again.” 


A  PROMINENT  MAN 


379 


4 ‘And  I  cannot  do  without  thee,  0  faithful  servant.  Let  us  go.” 

They  came  back  from  the  praetor’s,  and  Conatus  was  the  slave 
of  Simon  of  Cyrene.  But  Conatus  was  to  have  his  own  peculium  (or 
private  property)  and,  withal,  the  privilege  of  leaving  his  master’s 
house  whenever  he  would,  and  then  of  returning  thereunto,  if  only 
he  chose  to  do  this. 

Twice,  not  long  thereafter,  did  Conatus  leave  Simon,  attempting 
to  make  for  himself  newer  ways.  And  twice  he  returned,  saying: 
4  4  Salvation  is  of  the  Jews.  Let  me  therefore  abide  in  the  tent  of  Shem 
perpetually.  ’  ’ 

And  Simon,  on  each  occasion,  was  still  without  a  steward,  and 
Conatus  became  as  his  steward  once  more. 

At  the  time  of  his  second  return,  he  passed  (this  new-old  asditus) 
on  the  way  to  his  duties  in  the  farther  places  of  the  house,  through 
the  wide  atrium,  or  hall  of  high  court  and  stately  audience.  There, 
by  the  side  of  the  water-clock,  sate  old  Chronos,  that  giant  slave  with 
flowing  beard,  bald  head,  and  well-worn  scythe  across  one  massive 
shoulder. 

Quoth  Conatus  unto  him  (being  gay  because  of  his  return) :  4 4 Re¬ 
joice,  0  son  of  Uranus  and  Gaea.  Doth  time  hang  heavily  upon  thy 
shoulders?  If  so,  then  thou  sittest  not  lightly  on  thyself,  for  thou 
thyself  art  Time.” 

But  the  antique  slave,  Chronos,  did  not  so  much  as  gaze  at  the 
jester.  Nor  did  his  pallid  features  display  emotion,  either  indignation 
or  shame.  Like  a  slow,  but  inevitable,  machine,  his  bloodless  lips  fell 
apart,  crying :  4  4  Conticinium,  conticinium !  Awaken,  all  slaves ! 
There  is  work  for  you  to  do:  life  is  short,  vicissitudinous,  full  of 
snares  and  dangers.” 

But  Conatus  gave  no  heed  to  Time’s  solemnity  or  warnings.  The 
rather,  he  maketh  a  grimace,  and  crieth  unto  Chronos:  4 4 How  is  thy 
sister-wife,  Rhea,  and  how  [pointing  down  Time’s  mouth]  are  thy 
various  children  the  which  thou  hast  swallowed — Hestia,  Demeter, 
Here,  Hades,  and  Poseidon  ?  Thou  seemest  so  sad  I  believe  thou  hast 
an  attack  of  indigestion.”  At  this  the  steward  pretended  to  let  a 
great  scythe  fall,  clapped  both  hands  upon  his  stomach,  and  writhed 
earnestly.  Whereat  Chronos,  at  length  overcome,  dropped  his  scythe 
to  the  floor,  and  laughed  till  his  tears  started  and  the  walls  echoed 
again  and  again,  and  slaves  ran  in  from  distant  courts  to  behold  this 
unheard  of  matter,  that  Time  himself  should  laugh. 

And  Simon  the  Master,  standing  on  the  stair  which  led  by  the 
side  of  the  atrium  up  to  the  solemn  library,  held  onto  his  jovial  sides 
and  shook  with  merriment. 


380 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


Then  went  Conatus  out  among  the  slaves,  and  all  did  meet  him 
gladly,  saying:  “We  have  missed  thee,  gentle  steward,  also  thy  happy 
ways.  But,  now  thou  art  back  amongst  us,  we  will  work  for  thee 
doubly  hard.” 

Conatus  said,  “Let  us  work  for  the  Master  (and  for  that  greater 
Master  also)  and  love  both  him  and  Him  and  one  another.” 

Simon,  however,  went  on  up  the  stair,  and  into  his  bibliotheca, 
where  myriads  of  rolls  lay,  all  inscribed  and  incased,  then  to  a  tiny 
room  beyond,  which  was  called  the  Zotheca,  where  were  his  choicest 
treasures  among  the  scripts. 

How  familiar  the  house  did  seem,  with  its  hallowed  sense  of  the 
voice  of  Lampadephorus  yet  lingering  about  its  walls.  To  the  Jew 
it  appeared  that  he  himself  must,  on  an  olden  time,  have  lived  in 
the  great  mansion  before,  even  in  the  very  flesh  and  bones  of  Lam¬ 
padephorus.  “Verily,”  said  he  to  himself,  “I  dwell  in  the  tents  of 
Javan,  even  as  Conatus  in  the  tents  of  Shem.  0  Lampadephorus, 
friend  of  other  and  better  days,  would  thou  wert  present  in  body 
even  now  as  thou  art  surely  in  spirit.”  He  took  a  certain  writing 
from  its  place,  and  kissed  it  tenderly,  and  set  it  back,  and  his  eye 
grew  moist  for  the  sake  of  him  who  had  written  that  roll,  and  then 
had  come  to  degradation  (in  Cassar’s  service)  so  to  shameful  death. 

At  the  thought  of  death,  Simon  mused  a  little,  then  took  forth  a 
scroll  of  cheerfulness  (meaning  to  read)  and  thrust  it  in  his  girdle, 
and  went  yet  further  into  a  still  more  secret  room. 

And  he  closed  the  door  (which  was  iron-heavy)  and  double-bolted 
it,  then  closed  over  that  another  and  still  heavier,  and  bolted  that 
tight  in  several  places. 

Then,  having  listened,  he  brought  forth  out  of  the  wall  a  hidden 
drawer,  labelled:  “The  Toys  of  Time” — for  the  contents  of  that 
drawer  would,  on  a  day  of  days  (as  each  man  knoweth)  have  to  be 
laid  aside,  even  as  the  little  elephants  and  camels  which,  on  an  older 
season,  his  father’s  mocking  steward,  Trivialis,  had  made  for  his 
childish  fingers  in  Cyrenaica. 

He  looked  at  the  jewels  until  he  panted.  The  sweat  stood  out 
upon  his  branded  forehead,  his  eyes  grew  large  and  round  and  wholly 
devoid  of  motion,  as  were  he  staring  at  the  gates  of  joy. 

Then  poured  he  out  upon  a  table  a  glittering  stream  of  these 
hardened  colors  from  the  rainbows  of  old  hopes — colors  which  a  man 
could  verily  take  up  between  his  fingers  as  they  were  handles  of  a 
sword. 

Said  Simon,  ‘  ‘  Thou,  0  Cassar,  hast  thou  a  jurisdiction  over  these  ? 


A  PROMINENT  MAN 


381 


Let  us  see.  Lands  thou  mightest  take.  Better  it  is,  in  a  flight,  to 
have  my  power  and  safety  altogether  concentrate  and  with  me.” 

Then  a  thought  came  to  him.  There  was,  in  the  center  of  the 
drawer,  a  mighty  vase,  made  of  one  single  ruby,  filled  to  the  brim 
with  pearls,  each  thereof  the  ransom  of  a  great  kingdom.  In  the 
center,  atop,  lay  one  bright  margarite  of  a  luster,  shape,  and  magni¬ 
tude,  that  all  the  world  had  never  seen  its  like.  Round  that  pearl  had 
clustered  (so  said  Mundus,  he  that  had  sold  the  pearl  to  Simon)  a 
whole  history  of  sin,  greater  indeed  than  the  annals  of  many  a  nation. 

Simon  lifted  the  pearl  to  the  light,  and  thought  upon  it.  “Thy 
name  is  Salvation !  ’  ’  said  he.  He  took  out  a  dagger,  and  opened  the 
flesh  of  his  left  forearm.  And  he  set  the  margarite  in  the  wound,  and 
sewed  the  flesh  up  over  the  pearl,  that  ever,  in  case  of  a  sudden, 
unforeseen  attack,  or  imprisonment  and  search,  there  might  yet  be  as  a 
secret  with  him,  in  his  own  very  flesh,  the  certain  means  of  ransom 
or  escape. 

Then  snatched  he  the  rest  of  the  jewels  from  his  own  impassioned 
gaze,  and  put  them  up  quickly. 

He  went  back  into  the  zotheca,  there,  too,  shut  himself  within. 

Then  said  he,  “Friend,  Lampadephorus,  I  thank  thee  that  thou 
hast  informed  me  of  thy  measures  for  escape — the  stair  of  a  hun¬ 
dred  steps  and  one;  for  I  would  truly  know  not  a  single  way,  but 
many.  Let  us  see.” 

He  went  to  a  place  where  still  one  heathen  statue  remained  from 
the  old  times  of  Lampadephorus,  the  statue  of  Pallas  Athena.  He 
pressed  upon  a  spring  above  the  goddess’s  heart,  and  the  whole  niche 
turned,  and,  with  it,  the  pedestal  and  the  statue.  And  Simon  gazed 
forth  and  down— into  darkness. 

Then  stepped  he  out  of  the  room,  as  often  he  had  done  before 
in  times  of  perplexity.  And  behold,  there  came  up  from  the  sewer 
(for  unto  that  surreptitious  passage  did  the  stairway  lead)  such  a 
stench  of  old  corruption,  that  he  drew  quickly  back,  pressed  again 
the  spring,  and  closed  once  more  the  detestable  opening. 

“Even  yet  I  have  not  gone  down,”  said  Simon,  “but  it  is  well  to 
know  how.” 

He  descended  into  the  hall  of  audience,  where  now  certain  Attic 
tumblers  were  practicing  that  were  wont  to  amuse  him  of  a  rainy 
day,  and  where  there  were  also  masks  set  upon  the  walls  (after  the 
Roman  fashion)  of  Simon’s  ancestors  (Abraham  and  Isaac  and  Jacob 
and  Aaron,  but  all  of  course  hypothetic,  being  outpictured  from  the 
artist’s  imagination  alone)  ;  and  past  old  Chronos  and  his  water- 


382 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


clock,  and  by  many  a  gorgeous,  perfumed  court,  until  he  came  to 
spaces  far  remote  from  the  atrium,  called  the  viridarium. 

Now,  in  one  of  the  courts  of  the  viridarium,  a  gardener,  at  a  time 
which  Simon  of  Cyrene  could  not  quite  recall,  had  set  up  a  num¬ 
ber  of  sombre  cypress  trees,  in  an  absolute  geometric  circle — emblem 
therefore  not  merely  of  death  but  of  eternity  as  well.  In  the  center 
of  the  great  kuklos  of  darkling  cypresses,  was  stretched  and  laid  a 
little  lilied  pond,  whose  excellent  smooth  surface,  like  unto  the  placid 
human  mind,  reflected  in  a  way  the  circle  surrounding  it.  The  pond 
was  fed  by  secret  springs,  and  thus  was  kept  forever  in  a  condition 
of  the  greatest  clearness  and  purity.  In  the  pond’s  center  (for  such 
had  been  the  strange  conceit  of  the  old-time  master  of  the  gardens) 
had  been  placed  a  tiny  horologe — horologium  solarium,  only  that  here 
amid  the  gloomy  cypresses  there  was  no  sun — round  whose  excavated 
marble  basin,  and  next  outside  the  all-unnecessary  marks  for  the 
supposedly  succeeding  hours,  ran,  but  in  lichen-covered  letters,  this 
curious  inscription :  4  ‘  The  tiny  circle  of  the  day  hath  here  no  value. 
Look,  thoughtful  guest  (by  which  is  meant  the  owner  of  this  house) 
around  thee;  thou  wilt  comprehend,  and  (possibly)  bethink  thee  how 
to  die.” 

Simon  entered  the  gloomy  court  in  which  stood  the  cycle  of  the 
cypresses,  and  paused  for  one  brief  moment  to  observe  if  truly  he 
were  in  solitude.  Far  in  the  South,  reaching  high  above  the  wall  of 
the  court,  was  a  giant  bank  of  slaty  cloud.  Ever  and  anon  the 
lightning  shot  across  the  cloud,  scrawling  it  over  like  a  written  scroll. 
And  a  muttering  voice  was  heard  in  the  cloud,  like,  as  it  were,  to  that 
old-time  voice  on  Sinai.  Far  in  the  northern  spaces  of  the  blue 
was  an  eagle — only  a  majestic  speck,  but  poised  and  militant  and 
mighty. 

Now,  though  he  knew  it  not,  the  gates  of  the  life  of  Simon  of 
Cyrene  were  slowly  a-turning,  to  close,  at  the  appointed  time,  behind 
his  soul  forever.  Yet  he  foreboded  nothing,  thinking  all  to  be  well. 
Such  is  the  darkness  lying  on  each  human  path  that  no  one  knoweth 
where  his  feet  will  lead.  Darkness  without  measure  or  stint ! 

Into  the  gloomy  cycle  of  the  cypresses,  as  he  had  very  often  done 
in  days  gone  by,  passed  Simon  of  Cyrene,  and,  placing  himself  with¬ 
in  a  seat  of  anciently  rounded  marble,  gave  himself  wholly  up  unto 
solemn  dreams  concerning  Adonai.  But  scarce  had  his  reveries  begun 
when,  all  at  once,  from  the  far  distant  atrium,  came  the  sound  of  his 
olden  slave  which  stood  by  the  side  of  the  water-clock — antique 
Chronos — calling  in  his  changeless  fashion  the  style  and  title  of  some 
unexpected  hour.  Unto  the  Jew  it  sounded  like  an  echo  of  time  ex- 


A  PROMINENT  MAN 


383 


ternal,  which,  somehow,  had  crept  and  wandered  here  into  the  bosom 
of  internal  time,  otherwise  called  eternity. 

He  began  to  remember  that  the  callings  of  his  old  slave,  Chronos, 
had  taken  on  of  late  an  ever-increasing  frequency  of  recurrence,  and, 
in  addition,  an  ever-enlarging  import  and  solemnity.  He  believed 
that  he,  even  Simon,  might  be  growing  old.  There  was,  he  knew, 
snow  of  years  besprinkled  on  his  temples,  and  blue-gray  circles  had 
begun  to  form  about  the  dark  centres  of  his  eyes — symbols  (he 
thought  once  again)  of  eternity — how  strange  that  symbols  of  eternity 
should  abound  upon  every  hand !  Thine  eternity,  0  Jehovah,  and  I, 
thy  priest,  in  the  very  midst  thereof  with  thee! 

Had  he  changed  in  his  soul  as  little  as  in  his  body?  People  yet 
spake  of  “the  unchanging  Jew.”  But  had  he  not  in  reality,  deep 
down  in  the  soul  of  him,  changed,  at  least  greatly  altered?  His 
hatred  of  the  infamous  cross,  of  Jesus  also,  had  become  much  more 
intense.  Yes,  there  could  be  no  doubt  at  all  about  that.  Now  he 
recalled  with  a  pang  how  much  the  eyes  and  voice  of  his  good  servant, 
Conatus,  were  like  the  eyes  and  the  voice  of  Him  of  Calvary.  But 
this  he  must  say:  Jesus  had  never  been  trivial,  as  Conatus  was. 
Even  he,  Simon,  would  admit  so  much  for  Jesus.  Why,  he  remem¬ 
bered  that,  on  this  very  day,  Conatus  had  made  even  Time  laugh, 
as  the  latter  sate  by  the  silvern  water-clock,  calling  off  the  inexorable 
hours.  Yet  Conatus ’s  eyes — the  pleading  love,  the  sweet  command! 
There  was  also  in  them  a  happy,  more  than  loyal  wish  to  be  of  loving 
service  unto  others.  All  these  things  were  in  his  Conatus ’s  eyes. 
Well  enough,  well  enough !  He  would  not  hold  anything  as  matter  of 
rebuke  against  Conatus.  Yet,  but  for  the  cross  and  Jesus — so  he  felt 
— his  whole  life  would  have  been  but  a  bright  and  beautiful  tale. 
Now,  oh  God!  was  it  wonder  that  he  hated  the  cross?  He  remem¬ 
bered  his  fearful  blasphemy  at  the  foot  of  the  hill,  shuddered.  Might 
a  man  be  saved,  ever,  who  had  been  guilty  of  such  wrong?  And  of 
late  there  was  always  a  certain  agitation  and  turmoil  in  his  soul, 
not  wdiolly  a  fear  of  idolatry,  and  not  wholly —  He  wondered  how 
many  of  his  servants  were  Christians.  How  many  of  the  followers 
of  J esus  were  there  now  in  Rome  ?  Pah !  what  a  leader  had  these  in 
old  Ophidion,  that  servant  of  the  Snake.  Christianity — was,  in  sooth, 
merely  idolatry  in  yet  another  (and  a  worser)  form. 

Now  Simon  recalled  a  meeting  of  the  Christians  which,  perforce 
and  by  accident,  he  had  overheard  in  the  house  of  Seneca,  the  moral 
philosopher.  He  had  been  at  the  dinner  of  a  great  man,  Mundus — 
him  from  whom  he  had,  in  fact,  later,  obtained  the  pearl — and,  at 
the  close  thereof,  that  senator,  being  frank  with  Attic  wine  and 


384 


SIMON  OF  GYRENE 


inborn,  low  insolence,  had  said  nnto  him,  Simon:  “Thou  also  art 
nobly  born,  as  well  as  I,  0  Simon  of  Cyrene,  for  thou  art  truly  a  man 
of  three  letters.  '  '  Thus  was  he,  even  Simon  of  Cyrene,  priest  of  God, 
insulted  with  an  ancient  joke  at  his  host's  table.  And,  when  the  gifts 
to  the  guests  were  distributed,  Simon  (who  received  his  present  last 
of  all)  found  it  but  a  little  wooden  cross.  “Thy  fate”  was  writ  there¬ 
upon. 

Then  he,  the  Jew,  even  Simon  of  Cyrene,  had  arisen,  and,  in 
despite  of  his  granite  resolve  that  he  would  not  at  any  time  vouch¬ 
safe  liberties  unto  his  too  sharp  tongue,  had  said  to  Mundus:  “My 
people  were  priests  and  great  philosophers  or  ere  thy  Romulus  and 
Remus  had  sucked  incurable  savagery  from  a  wolf.”  Then  he  had 
flung  the  cross  in  Mundus'  face,  and  gone  away  high  sorrowful. 

And,  coming  from  that  place  wherein  he  had  supped  and  suffered, 
he  had  been  assaulted  both  by  servants  of  that  Mundus  and  also  of 
Ophidion,  and  taken  to  a  certain  secret  chamber,  where  tortures  were 
awaiting — strange  wheels  and  curious  tables,  racks  and  spiked  chairs, 
and  white-hot  irons  and  curious  machineries  unmentionable.  And  out 
of  the  lingering  deaths  of  the  torture  chamber  he  had  been  brought 
forth  and  delivered,  both  by  Philanthropos  and  also  (if  Seneca  him¬ 
self  might  be  believed)  by  a  certain  Christopherus,  and  by  them  also 
that  followed  these  two  men,  and  also  by  the  servants  of  Seneca. 

And,  stupid  and  dreamy  from  all  his  sufferings,  he  had  been 
borne  unto  a  distant  room  in  Seneca's  house,  where  he  had  abode  in 
safety  many  days. 

And  while  he  had  lain  here  on  a  couch,  in  his  far  remote  cubi- 
culum,  it  happened,  on  a  first  day  of  the  week,  that  he  discerned  (at 
first)  a  little  sound  of  sacred  singing,  as  a  synagogue  were  nigh. 
Then,  soon,  the  hymn  did  cease,  and  a  sweet  reverend  voice  said  to 
the  unseen  audience  that  there  had  come  among  them  one  who  had 
studied  many  things  and  yet  he  believed.  A  great  surgeon,  a  man 
of  knowledge,  faith,  prayer  and  works.  And  his  light  was  that  of  a 
star  in  a  dark  world. 

And  the  man  who  had  studied  and  yet  believed,  spake  unto  them, 
chiefly  of  how  the  prophecies  of  Scripture  had  been  fulfilled  both  in 
Christ  and  in  Simon  of  Cyrene.  Then  the  heart  of  Simon  had  grown 
wild  with  anger  at  the  association  of  his  name  with  that  of  Christ. 
But  a  many  had  believed  that  day,  confessing  Jesus,  and  submitting 
to  Christian  baptism. 

And  the  man  sate  on,  amid  his  gloomy  cypress  trees  and  by  the 
side  of  his  sunless  and  unsunable  sun-dial,  giving  himself  ten  thou¬ 
sand  fearful  martyrdoms:  pricking  himself  with  thoughts  sharper 


A  PROMINENT  MAN 


385 


than  Jndean  thorns,  lashing  himself  with  words  heavier  than  Roman 
whips,  lifting  himself  with  sublime  reminiscences,  which,  while  they 
bore  him  aloft,  yet  tore  and  maimed  and  mangled  him,  like  crosses. 
He  recalled  with  especial  pain  that  one  of  the  Christians  on  that  day 
had  said  that  4 ‘Israel’s  Restoration”  did  not  mean  the  restoral  of 
the  Land  of  Israel  unto  the  Jew,  to  be  as  a  material  possession  unto 
him,  for,  in  the  centuries  and  the  millenaries,  that  Land  might  be 
restored  indeed  and  retaken  yet  again  a  thousand  thousand  times,  and 
still  were  it  all  as  nothing.  But  Christ  had  made  the  restoration  of 
Israel  unto  His  shepherding  when  that  He  had,  at  Pentecost,  in  Jeru¬ 
salem,  set  up  forever  his  indefeasible  church. 

Now,  while  Simon  pondered  these  matters,  and  with  greater  and 
greater  bitterness,  there  began  to  sing,  near  by,  at  voluptuous  inter¬ 
vals,  a  nightingale,  and,  deeper  in  the  garden,  another,  responsive  to 
its  mate.  Ever  and  anon  were  the  two  wholly  silent  for  yet  an  even 
longer  time,  and,  at  such  intervals,  not  far  away,  but  vaguely  distant 
in  the  unspeakable  domicile  of  Ophidion  (next  door  unto  Simon  of 
Cyrene’s  own  now,  so  extensive  had  the  house  of  each  become) — the 
monotonous  creak-creak,  creak-creak,  creak-creak,  of  some  eternal 
treadmill,  treaded  and  treaded  and  treaded  by  the  suffering  feet  of  a 
poor,  recalcitrant  slave. 

As  the  songs  of  the  nightingales  died  out  completely,  the  sweet, 
soft  air  of  the  afternoon  became  as  it  were  steeped  in  an  ineffable 
sorrow.  What  madness !  A  slave  to  sentimentality  and  self-pity  had 
he  not  become!  Here  and  there  a  finger  of  solemn  light  was  thrust 
in  from  the  outer  world,  hesitant,  shifting,  inadequate  but  inquisi¬ 
tive,  and  a  few  moments  later  a  beautiful  butterfly  came  into  the 
circle  of  the  cypresses,  and,  alighting  on  the  finger  of  the  shadowless 
and  never-to-be-shadowed  dial,  opened  and  closed  its  living  and  re- 
joiceful  wings  of  white  and  scarlet,  like  a  soul  which  had,  at  last, 
though  not  without  the  stains  of  sin,  reached  eternity. 

Now,  at  this,  Simon  heard  once  more  his  old  slave  by  the  water- 
clock  announcing  (even  so  soon!)  the  progress  of  external  time.  “Eve¬ 
ning  draweth  on:  black  night  soon  followeth.  Yet,  in  eternity,  it  is 
high  noon  forever.  Evening  draweth  on.” 

The  darkness  sifted  down,  the  night  grew  soft,  calm,  and  fragrant. 
The  delicate  scents  of  thyme  waved  to  his  nostrils — thyme,  that  holy 
herb,  wont  to  be  used  at  Jerusalem  in  the  Temple  of  Adonai.  In  just 
what  way  was  it  there  employed?  He  reflected  for  a  long  time. 
Strange  he  could  not  quite  remember!  What  sort  of  Jew  was  this, 
what  priest  of  God?  Once  more  the  creak-creak  of  the  treadmill  in 

the  near,  detestable  court  of  Ophidion.  Creak-creak,  creak-creak !  A 

25 


386 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


sudden  burst  of  thunder  sounded  just  above  the  court.  Distant  foot¬ 
steps  pattered,  various  slaves  were  making  ready  for  the  rain.  Then 
again  (so  soon !)  the  sound  of  the  old  slave  by  the  water-clock :  “It  is 
night,  it  is  night!  But  joy  cometh  in  the  morning. ” 

He  arose  and  went  about,  muttering  and  alone,  for  all  the  splendid 
courts  which  he  tramped  were  wholly  silent  now,  save  for  the  inward 
feeling  of  impending  great  thunder.  And  a  sombre  fear  shook  him 
to  the  heart,  because  he  thought  his  loneliness  a  presentiment  that, 
on  a  day,  these  courts  should  be  indeed  deserted.  And  he  wandered 
about  in  them  like  a  lion  in  the  splendid  ruins  of  forgotten  palaces. 

At  length  he  whispered,  “0  God!  the  loneliness  that  is  in  my 
soul! — I  will  become —  Yea,  I  will  become — in  spite  of  even  thee, 
O  God — a  crypto- Jew !  ’  ’ 

He  began  to  hear  servants  calling  (among  them  Conatus)  “Simon, 
domine!  Simon,  domine!” 

He  followed  the  sounds  of  their  voices,  and  came  unto  the  servants. 
They  said,  ‘  ‘  Thy  brethren  await  thee.  ’  ’ 

He  went  to  the  atrium,  found  there  Na-aph,  the  adulterer ;  Gan- 
nab,  the  thief ;  Keseel,  the  stupid  one ;  Alukah,  the  horse-leech ;  and, 
holding  himself  aloof  in  vain  pretentious  praying,  Parush,  the  sepa¬ 
rate  and  formalistic. 

Simon  gave  them  all  sportulse,  the  which  they  accepted  gladly. 
Then  Parush  might  have  said  unto  Simon  of  Cyrene  certain  words 
concerning  Berith,  yet  was  that  man  so  bound  to  his  misadvising 
wife,  even  Thorah  (which,  by  interpretation,  meaneth  “The  Law”) 
that  he  never  would  speak  unto  Simon  even  the  words  he  might  have 
spoke. 

They  began,  first  one  and  then  another  of  the  brethren,  to  berate 
the  master  of  the  house.  Quoth  they,  “What  kind  of  Jew  art  thou, 
O  Simon  of  Cyrene?  Hast  thou  not,  these  many  long  years,  spoken 
aloud,  even  in  the  presence  of  the  heathen,  the  unmentionable  name? 
What  a  priest  unto  God!  Can  any  one  tell  thee  from  a  Gentile? 
When  hast  thou  gone  to  the  synagogue?  Twice  and  three  times 
monthly.  Hast  thou  said  the  Kiddush  for  a  whole  year  ?  Where  art 
thou  at  Rosh  ha-Shanah  and  Yom-Kippur?  Dost  thou  believe  that 
any  amount  of  charities  will  purchase  thy  pardons  as  to  all  these 
things?  And  hast  thou  celebrated,  of  late,  even  the  Hanuccah,  the 
triumph  of  Judaism  over  idolatry?” 

Simon  of  Cyrene  hung  his  head,  for  he  would  not  dispute  with 
his  brethren.  Moreover,  there  was  still  in  his  heart  the  will  to  be¬ 
come  a  crypto- Jew. 

“Dost  thou  not  even  associate  familiarly  with  Christians,  the  ref- 


A  PROMINENT  MAN 


387 


use  of  idolaters?  It  is  even  said  that  many  do  not  know  thee  from 
a  Christian,  and  more  each  day  thy  ways  are  like  theirs.  Especially 
this  Conatus  hath  upon  thee — ” 

But  Simon  would  hear  them  in  nothing  against  Conatus.  He  took 
them  and  feasted  them  all  (for  he  loved  his  brethren,  spite  of  their 
transgressions)  and  returned  them  to  their  homes  with  yet  more 
heavy  gifts.  But  his  heart  was  bitter. 

There  came  the  annunciator,  and  said :  ‘  ‘  Thy  sons,  both  Cheerful¬ 
ness  and  Joy,  do  await  thee  at  thy  gate.  They  stand  by  the  side  of 
Christopherus  and  Nea  Diatheka.  Long  have  they  been  a-seeking. 
Shall  I  let  them  in?” 

Simon  thundered,  “No.  By  the  God  of  the  Temple,  no.  Ten 
thousand  times  ten  thousand  times,  I  say  to  thee,  No.  For  I,  shall 
I  fellowship  idolaters,  and  take  as  my  sons  the  followers  of  Christ?” 

The  annunciator  fled,  and  went  to  the  door  with  the  message. 

There  the  sons  of  Simon  and  Amahnah  wept. 

And  they  came  each  day  for  many  days,  and  Christopherus  and 
Nea  Diatheka  often  with  them.  But  never  the  doors  of  Simon  of 
Cyrene  opened  unto  any  of  these.  And  often,  because  discouraged, 
they  grew  negligent  for  whole  long  periods,  and  came  not. 

And  Conatus,  because  of  timidity,  did  not  at  any  time  seek  to 
gather  together  the  Christians  of  the  house  of  Simon  for  service  and 
for  prayer  within  that  house.  Yet,  because  of  the  freedom  which 
all  the  servants  had,  both  they  and  Conatus  did  often  meet  in  an¬ 
other  portion  of  the  city.  And  they  were  greatly  encouraged  and 
edified  both  by  Christopherus  and  also  by  Cheerfulness  and  Joy. 

And  the  house  of  Simon  of  Cyrene  prospered,  in  part  because  of 
the  humble  Conatus,  who  ruled  with  gentleness  and  love,  and  who 
knew  not  night  from  day  in  his  toil  for  both  the  Master  and  the 
servants.  He  was  no  longer  the  mere  mocker  and  trivial  profaner 
whom  the  Jew  in  far  off  Cyrenaica  had  chidden  and  chidden  yet 
again — and  all  in  vain.  But  there  played  in  his  happy  eyes  the  divine 
light  of  them  who  live  most  joyfully  for  others,  and  would  die  for 
them  as  joyfully. 

About  this  time,  at  the  suggestion  of  Conatus,  Simon  began  to  give 
his  charities  not  only  unto  them  in  the  Regio  Judeorum,  but  also  unto 
any  and  all  that  were  anywhere  in  the  city,  needing  raiment  or 
bread.  After  a  time,  he  sent  out  emissaries,  who  sought  for  the 
poor  in  distant  lands,  whether  sons  of  Shem,  or  sons  of  Ham,  or  sons 
of  Japhet. 

And  Conatus  was  always,  in  his  fervent  and  persistent  pray¬ 
ing  which  he  made  each  night  in  his  solitary  cubiculum,  asking  for 


3  88 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


“the  wonderful  thing, ”  as  lie  called  it — the  most  wonderful  thing 
that  can  happen  unto  any  man — to  occur  to  his  master.  His  eyes 
grew  wistful  with  the  praying  and  the  waiting,  wistful  and  ofttimes 
sad.  Yet  did  he  never  cease  to  pray. 

Sometimes  he  attempted  to  speak  as  about  this  thing  unto  his 
master.  But  as  he  drew  anigh  the  subject,  he  stammered,  cast  down 
his  eyes  to  the  ground,  and  became  confused,  and  went  off  to  speaking 
(as  his  master  perceived  clearly)  about  some  other  affair  than  that 
whereof,  at  first,  he  would  have  spoken. 

Therefore,  to  make  his  servant  the  more  at  ease,  also  to  hide  his 
own  eternally  ineradicable  Judaism,  Simon  of  Gyrene  spake  unto 
Conatus  about  skepticism. 

And  Conatus,  humble  and  fearful  and  confused,  would  say: 
“True,  Master.  True,  Master.”  And  try  yet  again  to  talk,  and  yet 
again  fail. 

Simon  in  his  heart  was  gratified,  for  he  said:  “If  the  man  but 
keep  the  Maxims  of  the  Sons  of  Noah,  need  I  endeavor  to  proselytize  f 
I  would  only  offend  a  most  excellent  servant.  Let  his  religion  be  as 
it  may.  Moreover,  I  will  not  speak  out  concerning  Adonai  (in  whom 
I  still  fully  believe)  even  to  these  that  are  mine  own  servants  in  mine 
own  house.  For  they,  as  well  as  I,  can  find  Adonai  out,  if  they 
will.  ’  ’ 

Now  it  was  curious  that,  at  this  very  time,  Simon  of  Cyrene  was 
, reading  many  a  skeptical  philosopher,  in  whom  he  verily  thought  he 
believed — Lucretius  and  Aristotle  and  Academicians  of  the  skeptic 
school.  He  said  to  himself,  “I  am  wholly  a  skeptic.”  Yet,  all  the 
while,  he  was  tnily  planning  to  become  a  crypto- Jew,  to  set  up 
glorious  idols  in  his  house,  that  the  Romans  might  thereby  think  he 
worshipped  Caesar,  though,  as  he  said  in  his  soul,  he  would  “worship 
only  thee,  Adonai.” 

And  still  the  house  of  Simon  continued  to  prosper,  in  part  be¬ 
cause  of  Conatus  the  steward.  But  Conatus  and  his  master  remained 
as  strangers,  for  this  that  they  knew  not  God  together. 

And  the  life  of  Simon  the  wealthy,  was  ever  a  curious  thing,  even 
as  Betah  and  Jeezer  had  prophesied.  He  had  no  ease,  and  there  was 
no  rest  for  the  sole  of  his  foot.  Yea,  though  he  possessed  innumerable 
habitations,  he  was  still  as  a  wanderer,  for  his  life  hung  ever  in  doubt 
before  him ;  he  feared  night  and  day  and  had  none  assurance  of  his 
life.  In  the  morning  he  said,  Would  God  it  were  even!  and  at  even 
he  said,  Would  God  it  were  morning  again,  for  the  fear  of  his  heart 
which  he  feared  and  the  sight  of  his  eyes  which  he  saw. 


A  PROMINENT  MAN 


389 


CHAPTER  XLV 
Between  Two  Stools 

In  those  days  became  Simon  of  Cyrene  a  crypto- Jew.  He  still  be¬ 
lieved  upon  Adonai,  but  he  set  up  in  his  halls  the  statues  of  Jupiter 
and  Juno  (for  did  he  not  require  the  countenances  of  the  great?)  ; 
Minerva,  the  goddess  of  wisdom  (and  who  so  much  in  need  of  wisdom 
as  a  snare-encircled  Jew?)  ;  Vesta,  the  goddess  of  fire  (whose  flames 
tried  out  the  bright  gold  from  the  ore)  ;  Ceres,  she  of  the  corn  and 
of  husbandry  (whose  profits  were  sooner  or  later  in  Simon’s  own 
tills)  ;  and  Neptune,  god  of  the  seas  (the  seas,  upon  whose  waters 
rode  his  innumerable,  rich  ships)  ;  and  Venus  (let  love  and  beauty 
still  increase,  that  expenditures  and  profits  may  be  greater)  ;  Vulcan, 
her  husband,  blacksmith  to  the  gods,  who  forged  in  winter  the 
thunderbolts  which  great  Jupiter,  vindictive  and  unafraid  of  mortals, 
cast  in  the  pleasant  summer  time  (but  let  no  Jew  be  stricken  by  the 
lightning)  :  lame  was  Vulcan,  lame  and  a  cuckold  (as  seldom  a  Jew 
had  been)  and  ridiculous;  Mars,  the  fierce  god  of  war,  riding  in  a 
chariot,  strong,  and  holding  tight  his  spear  (especially  hateful  unto 
Jews  was  Mars)  ;  then  Diana,  goddess  of  the  woods  and  the  chase 
(might  the  profits  on  the  furs  and  the  timbers  be  also  unto  him,  the 
Hebrew)  ;  next  Mercury,  the  patron  of  merchants  and  of  gain :  winged 
sandals,  or  talaria,  were  upon  his  feet  (for  promptness  was  im¬ 
portant  in  business),  while  a  caduceus,  or  wand  entwined  with  wisest 
serpents,  was  holden  in  his  hand,  and  he  bore  a  purse,  marsupium; 
last  of  all  the  greater  twelve  of  the  Roman  gods,  was  Apollo,  which 
had  been  specially  loved  of  Lampaclephorus  (and,  after  him,  of  Si¬ 
mon)  :  god  of  music  and  of  poetry  and  of  painting  was  Apollo;  and 
of  medicine  likewise,  and  all  the  finer  and  better  arts.  Praise  unto 
all  these  gods  of  Rome,  but  especially  unto  Mercury  and  Apollo. 

And  all  these  “greater”  (they  that  the  Romans  called  “celes¬ 
tial”)  deities  he  set  up  in  his  atrium,  and  certain  of  the  lesser  deities 
also  set  he  up,  for  ensamples,  Plutus,  god  of  riches  (Ceres’  son)  and 
Saturn,  the  god  of  time,  he  that  was  shown  as  a  snake  eating  eternal¬ 
ly  his  own  futile  tail.  And  this  the  Jew  set  up  beside  old  Chronos  and 
his  water-clock  of  silver. 

And  just  inside  the  atrium  door,  he  erected,  greater  than  all  the 
celestial  gods  combined — Caesar,  the  Lord  of  the  Whole  World. 

He  set  up  also,  in  his  minor  courts,  innumerable  statues  of  the 
lesser  gods — Janus,  the  god  of  the  year;  Pluto,  king  of  Hell;  the 
Fates ;  the  Furies ;  Somnus,  or  sleep ;  Bacchus  Corniger,  attended  by 


390 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


Silenus  liis  nurse ;  Luna,  the  moon,  and  Sol,  the  sun ;  and  Hercules ; 
and  his  own  Genius — of  which  each  man — according  to  the  Komans 
— hath  one  only. 

And  there  were  other  gods  also.  But  in  each  of  the  courts  of 
Simon  was  either  a  bust  or  a  statue  of  Caesar. 

Simon,  in  his  heart,  despised  the  gods,  Caesar  most  of  all.  He 
said,  ‘  ‘  0  Adonai,  thou  knowest !  thou  knowest !  But  for  these,  and 
the  silence  which  I  have  set  as  a  seal  upon  my  lips,  I  should  go  to  the 
gates  of  Hades  and  be  as  nothing.  Therefore  have  I  done  these 
things.  But  behold!  I  will  stand  high  charitable  to  all  men,  and  I 
will  make  new  deserts  to  prosper,  new  caravans  to  wind,  and  the 
world  shall  be  far  happier  even  for  this,  that  I  am  in  it.  Therefore 
forgive.”  Yet  his  heart  was  afraid  and  his  knees  trembled,  because 
he  had  set  up  the  images.  He  believed  not  upon  them,  yet  he  feared 
and  feared  the  very  appearance  of  idolatry. 

And  they  that  beheld  the  statues  in  the  house  of  Simon,  reported 
quickly  the  things  they  had  seen.  And  they  told  Cassar. 

Hence,  on  a  day  (even  as  Simon  was  feeling  in  the  flesh  of  his 
arm  for  the  pearl  of  great  price  which  in  it  he  had  buried)  there 
came  to  the  house  of  Simon  a  messenger  from  Caesar. 

Who  handed  unto  him  a  scroll. 

And  Simon,  taking  the  scroll,  and  breaking  the  seal  thereof,  read : 
“I,  even  Caesar,  do  hereby  make  thee  a  knight.  Thou  hast  been  high 
serviceable  unto  me.  I  may  later  cause  that  thou  shalt  be  a  sena¬ 
tor.  9  9 

Then  wrote  Simon  a  grateful  answer,  and  gave  it  unto  the  mes¬ 
senger,  and  despatched  him  with  it. 

But  still  did  Simon  fear.  And  he  felt  in  the  flesh  of  his  arm 
again  for  his  great  pearl.  And,  finding  it,  was  more  content. 

For  behold !  it  had  come  to  pass  that,  in  his  highest  happiness,  the 
man  was  most  afraid,  inasmuch  as,  because  of  the  great  vicissitudes  of 
his  years,  he  had  come  to  believe  in  his  soul  that  happiness  did  not 
of  right  belong  to  him,  Simon  of  Cyrene.  Even  the  laughter  of  his 
slaves,  as  well  as  of  himself,  was  tinged  now  and  again  with  a 
wholly  tragic  fear. 

About  this  time  Conatus  was  greatly  care-burdened  for  his  mas¬ 
ter.  He  came  therefore  unto  him,  and  said:  “Master,  among  the 
slaves  (who  know  everything,  but  will  not  always  tell  exactly  how 
they  have  learned)  it  is  fearfully  whispered  that  our  Master  is  to  go 
into  exile.  It  is  also  whispered  that  he  is,  instead,  to  be  secretly 
assassinated.  What  will  be  the  outcome?  Is  there,  0  Master,  any¬ 
thing  afoot  at  all?” 


A  PROMINENT  MAN 


391 


But  Simon  only  smiled,  saying:  “Who  knoweth?  Adonai.” 

Then  when  Conatus  perceived  that  his  master  was  not  of  a  truth 
heathen,  but  was  at  the  least  a  crypto- Jew,  he  said:  “0  Master,  I 
want  to  say  to  thee — I  think — I  think —  I  cannot  tell  what  I  think. 
I  am  without  ‘expression.’  There  are  deeps  within  me — slave  as  I 
am — there  are  deeps — and  within  thee  too,  0  Master,  there  are  deeps, 
into  the  which  I  fear — I  fear — to  be  saying —  I  think — I  think 
that  I  dream  impossibilities.  The  wonderful  thing !  The  wonderful 
thing,  0  Master!  Would  it  might  happen!” 

Simon  thereupon  looked  at  Conatus  with  round,  bright  eyes. 
“What  wonderful  thing,  0  faithful  servant?” 

“Master,  Master !  Speak  to  me,  I  pray  thee,  about  thy  prophets.” 

Thought  Simon,  “I  have  said  in  my  soul  that  never  a  word  of 
my  prophets  or  of  Adonai  would  I  speak  to  any  one  again.  But,  as 
concerneth  the  speaking  to  Conatus,  what  doth  it  matter?”  He  spake 
therefore  unto  his  servant  long  about  the  olden  prophets,  the  greater 
and  the  less,  but  chiefly  of  how  those  men  had  prophesied  concerning 
the  Messiah. 

When  he  had  finished,  asked  Conatus:  “And  thou  lookest  still, 
0  Master,  for  the  coming  of  Messiah  ?  ’  ’ 

“Hook.” 

Conatus  closed  his  eyes,  as  if  listening  to  an  inward  voice.  Then, 
in  a  much  lower  tone  than  theretofore,  he  asked:  “Master,  may  I 
go  into  my  private  room?” 

“Yea,  indeed,  Conatus.” 

The  man  left,  and  prayed. 

But  Simon  passed  to  the  Forum,  where  he  still  was  accustomed 
to  transact  much  business,  especially  in  company  with  his  olden 
friends,  ISFummus  and  Praesens  Pecunia. 

Nummus  said  unto  him,  “Seest  thou  not  that  on  us  the  ends  of 
the  world  are  come?  Things  get  worse  daily.  The  universe  is  rotten 
to  the  core,  and  will  fall  asunder.” 

Praesens  Pecunia  said,  “Discord  groweth  continually.  There  is 
disaffection  in  the  army,  centurions  are  murdered  in  the  night.  Trea¬ 
son  is  discovered  in  the  palace  of  Cassar.  The  Temple  of  Saturn  is 
robbed,  and  the  custodian  murdered  out  of  revenge  upon  the  State. — 
But  Caesar  himself !  Look  where  he  cometh !  ’  ’ 

Then  came  Cassar  in  his  litter  straightway  unto  the  Jew,  and  got 
out  of  the  litter  on  purpose  that  he  might  kiss  the  Jew  before  the 
multitude.  Then  gat  he  him  back  into  the  litter,  and  left  the  Forum, 
flinging  sweet  words  behind  for  the  Jew  only.  And  great  crowds 


392 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


gathered  round  Simon  of  Cyrene,  for,  as  it  seemed  to  them,  he  had 
forever  overcome  his  chief  adversary,  which  was  Ophidion. 

But,  at  the  close  of  the  afternoon  (for  it  was  winter  now,  and 
trading  was  mostly  in  the  latter  portion  of  the  day)  when  Simon 
was  quitting  the  Forum  with  great  gain,  and  his  litter  (only  less 
splendid  than  that  of  Cagsar)  had  come,  then  there  stepped  up  beside 
him  a  viator ,  one  of  the  officers  of  Caesar,  Lord  of  All  this  World,  and 
by  whom  arrests  are  made,  and  saith  unto  him  with  a  mock :  ‘  ‘  Thy 
pardon,  sacred  Jew.” 

He  gave  Simon  a  writing  from  the  prefect  which  Simon  read, 
then  gat  into  his  litter  with  it.  And  turning  in  the  litter,  the  Jew 
beheld  himself  alone  in  the  midst  of  the  Forum,  Nummus  and  Praesens 
Pecunia  being  last  to  leave  him.  But  these  also  at  length  departed, 
and  there  were  now  beside  him  only  his  own  slaves — they  that  might 
not  choose  to  go  away.  A  flood  of  red  light  from  the  setting  sun  fell 
like  a  baptism  of  blood  into  the  marble  gulley  of  the  Roman  Forum. 
Then,  by  a  strangely  sudden  association  of  ideas,  Simon  of  Cyrene 
remembered  that  night  outside  the  walls  of  old  Jerusalem,  when  the 
Nazar ene  (who  had  lately  been  attended  by  an  acclaiming  multitude) 
had  suddenly  been  deserted,  and  the  lurid  lights  of  hunting  Roman 
torches  filled  the  desolate  valley  of  Jehosaphat.  1  ‘Thy  Gethsemane, 
my  Forum !  Caesar  against  us  both !  But  who  is  to  bear  the  cross  for 
me,  thou  Crucified  One?” 

And  when  Simon  had  come  into  his  own  home — for  as  such  he  still 
did  think  of  it — he  ran  quickly  up  into  his  bibliotheca,  or  library, 
then  farther  on  into  that  little  zotheca  wherein  most  he  loved  to 
spend  his  solitude,  whether  in  hope  or  in  despair. 

Then  cried  he  aloud,  “And  thy  kiss,  0  Caesar,  it  was  like  the  kiss 
of  a  snake — or  that  of  Iscariot.  Well,  I  do  know  thee  now.  And  on 
such  and  such  a  day  (as  thy  writing  saith)  I  will  present  my  lately 
knighted  person  to  the  prefect,  in  the  Basilica  Julia,  there  to  undergo 
trial — and  for  treason  unto  thee.” 

For  a  time  he  could  not  wholly  realize,  or  comprehend,  the  mean¬ 
ing  and  import  of  his  strangely  sudden  arrest.  Then  he  beheld  the 
mockery  of  the  affair.  Little  by  little  there  dawned  upon  his  mind 
also  the  terrible  significance  of  his  trial  which  was  to  be  before  the 
prefect.  For  the  space  of  a  dozen  heartbeats  he  saw  himself  in  the 
Mines  of  the  Wretched:  heard  the  click  on  click  of  multitudes  of 
hammers  and  chisels,  beheld  the  crowds  of  naked  and  melancholy 
slaves  coming  from  darkness  and  disappearing  back  into  darkness 
again :  and  all  the  pent-up  wretchedness  of  the  place !  Then  the 
roar  of  the  landslide,  the  blinding  entry  of  the  light — 


A  PROMINENT  MAN 


393 


He  recalled  his  wanderings,  so  filled  with  suffering  and  lonesome¬ 
ness,  his  meeting  with  the  sweet  follower  of  Christ,  his  friendship 
with  that  gentle  spirit  for  a  time,  the  quarrel  at  the  cross,  the  part¬ 
ing.  “Ah  me!  that  parting  eternal!  Thou  little  knowest,  0  Christo- 
pherus,  gentlest  of  all  idolaters,  and  like,  much,  unto  Lampadephorus 
—  Why  couldst  thou  not  have  been  a  Jew  ?  ’  ’ 

After  a  little  walking  about,  he  recalled  again  his  rough  journey — 
that  journey  which  he  had  had  after  leaving  Christopherus,  the 
strange,  one-ideaed  people  whom  he  had  met  upon  that  journey — 
Superbus  and  Superbia,  with  their  foolish  ancestry,  full  of  nothing ; 
Avaritius  of  the  supernumerary  fingers,  who  lived  in  but  a  single 
apartment  of  his  house ;  Luxurius,  and  his  sister,  fond  of  enticement, 
with  whom  he,  even  the  Jew,  had  braken  wedlock;  Invidus  and  In- 
vida,  they  who,  in  the  town  of  Natura  Humana,  had  loved  him  dearly 
until  they  beheld  him  prosperous ;  Gula,  that  had  had  no  appetite  save 
when  he  saw  his  fellow  creatures  starving;  also  Accidius,  the  sloth¬ 
ful,  and  the  ever-scolding  Ira.  Then  the  castle  of  Levitas  came  back 
to  him  as  it  were  in  a  dream,  and  all  its  pitiable  follies,  his  own  sud¬ 
den  imprisonment,  the  release  because  of  the  justice  of  one  man  alone, 
even  Grammaticus.  Then  the  journey  into  Germania  Barbara.  After 
that,  the  road  to  Rome — the  first  day  in  The  City!  Ah  me,  the  ex¬ 
ultation  and  despair,  the  injustices,  the  victories —  But  now ! 

He  saw  with  preternatural  clearness  the  possible  consequences  of 
this  trial,  nor  would  he  in  any  wise  seek  to  blind  himself  as  there¬ 
unto.  He  began  to  feel  once  more  a  strange  homesickness  for  the 
Land,  the  land  that  the  Lord  had  given  to  his  fathers,  even  Canaan ! 
Why  had  he  not  returned  unto  that  land  long  ago?  Should  he  not 
have  been  happier?  Should  he  not  have  been  as  safe?  Was  he  not 
likely,  even  now,  before  the  very  eyes  of  Cossar,  to  be  sent  to  the 
Mines  again,  else  nailed  to  a  cross? 

Came  at  this  moment  a  cry  from  the  tumblers  in  the  atrium,  ‘  ‘  The 
temple  of  Jupiter  is  stricken !  The  temple  of  Jupiter — a  thunder¬ 
bolt  !  ’  ’ 

Then  cried  Simon  softly,  in  his  lone  zotheca:  “The  temple  of 
Jupiter — thy  bolt,  0  Jehovah!  And  this  shall  be  as  a  sign  unto  me, 
though  I  am  not  a  believer  on  any  signs.  Ah!  Thou  Sarcogenes, 
great  Christian  as  thou  art,  and  son  of  the  old  Devil,  if  I  do  defeat 
thee  this  one  time,  then,  at  last,  I  will  take  upon  thee  a  great  revenge. 
Too  long  have  I  deferred  it.  We  shall  see.  And  I  will  quit  me  like 
a  man  upon  my  trial.  I  will  be  mine  own  advocate,  even  as  thou, 
Sarcogenes,  art  ever  thine.  For  who  is  this  Ophidion,  but  a  man,  that 
he  should  certainly  triumph  over  me  ?  Let  calculation,  coolest  calcula- 


394 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


tion,  be  my  guide.  I  will  bridle  my  tongue,  0  Jehovah,  not  speak  out 
at  all  concerning  thee.  For  who  are  the  heathen  that  I  should  speak 
out  for  them,  and  perish  for  their  sakes?  And  who  am  I  that  I 
should  proselytize  unto  thee,  0  Jehovah — I,  but  a  worm  in  the  dust? 
Canst  thou  not,  if  thou  wilt,  0  Jehovah,  and  easily,  convert —  And 
emotion  shall  never  rule  me,  but  intellect  alone.  Come  then,  0  trial ! 
Let  us  go  before  the  prefectus,  thou  and  I,  Ophidion.  Let  us  go 
before  Justus,  and  test  our  strengths  together  in  the  presence  of  the 
court  and  the  world.  Stand  thou  by  me,  0  thou  Lord  of  Abraham, 
and  give  me  a  mighty  cunning  in  my  tongue,  for  I  shall  need  it  on 
that  day.” 

Now,  in  the  courts  of  Simon  of  Cyrene,  the  servants  said,  with 
bated  voices :  ‘  ‘  Our  Master  is  under  arrest.  ’  ’ 

“Sarcogenes,  erstwhile  Ophidion,  hath  done  this:  he  is  a  great 
gourmand.”  So  said  the  chief  of  the  bakers. 

“It  is  true,”  said  one  of  the  sculptors,  he  that  was  making  an 
image  of  Vita  Longa  for  the  Master’s  library.  “I  liked  not  the  man, 
Sarcogenes,  from  the  day  I  observed  that  his  hair  and  his  eyes 
matched  not.” 

Then  said  Musculosus,  one  of  the  grossest  of  the  slaves  which 
turned  the  hand-mills  and  ground  the  flour  for  Simon’s  familia :  “He 
seemeth  ever  so  sad,  our  Master.  When  he  laugheth  he  seemeth 
saddest  of  all  times,  so  that,  once,  when  I  beheld  his  lips  a-smiling, 
I  but  chanced  to  gaze  into  his  eyes,  and  lo !  then  saw  I  that  these 
were  so  deep  melancholy  with  private  grief  that  I  became  ashamed  I 
had  looked  into  them.  He,  the  Master,  observing  my  confusion,  said : 
‘Musculosus,  why  seemest  thou  confused  so?’  I  could  but  answer 
the  Master  the  truth,  being  confounded.  I  said :  ‘  Because  thine  eyes, 
O  Master,  are  terrible  in  their  sadness.’  Then  saith  he  unto  me, 
‘Thou  knowest  it  not,  0  Musculosus,  but  I  have  been  (and  yet  am) 
more  of  a  slave  than  thou.’  And  he  would  have  said  more,  but, 
methought,  he  could  not.  And  I  have  often  believed  that  he  wished 
(but  was  not  able)  to  tell  me  that  all  of  the  sadness  in  his  life  had 
a-grown  out  of  this  one  very  thing,  that,  on  a  certain  day,  he  had 
borne  the  cross — ” 

“Come,  hurry  up,”  cried  the  master  of  the  tables,  as  he  entered 
the  court.  “Each  man  unto  his  own  task.  To  it,  0  asses.” 

“Now  what’s  the  matter?” 

“What  do  ye  stand  for,  cooks?  Be  off  at  once,  and  see  to  the 
great  cooking.” 

“But  what  is  the  matter?” 


A  PROMINENT  MAN 


395 


“Set  up  the  tables  in  the  new  triclinium — there  where  all  the 
later  gods  are — they  will  soon  be  here.” 

“The  gods?” 

“No,  fool;  not  the  gods,  but  the  company.  Hurry!  Hast  not 
heard?  The  Master  giveth  on  this  day  a  feast.  In  honor  of  Seneca, 
the  moral  philosopher,  giveth  he  it.” 

“Then  let  us  hurry  indeed!  Go,  some  this  way  and  some  that.” 

“But  not  too  swiftly  either.  Have  ye  not  learned  how  haste 
maketh — ” 

“But  why  were  we  not  told  before  that  a  feast  cometh  on  this 
day?” 

“Yea,  answer  us  that.” 

“How  can  Z  tell?  How  can  any  of  us  tell  until  Conatus — ” 

“Anyway,  feasts  and  visitors  are  rare  enough  here.” 

“Our  Master  is  a  friend  of  Caesar.” 

“Yea,  he  is  a  friend.” 

“But  is  Caesar  a  friend  of  our  Master?” 

“Yea,  the  same  kind  of  friend — hurry  up,  ye  scrubbers  of  the 
pavement,  yonder ! — as  a  hand  is  which  taketh  a  sponge,  and,  letting 
it  suck  its  fill — hurry  up,  tablers — of  golden  water,  taketh  it  then, 
and  holdeth  it  over  his  own  treasure-chest,  and — ” 

“Squeezeth  it  liberally.” 

“Ye  do  say  right:  squeezeth  it  liberally.” 

“But  ever  the  sponge  is  ready — ” 

“And  hath  good  store  of  golden  water  in  him  at  each  and  any 
several  moment — ” 

“Hush,  fool!” 

“Why  ‘hush’?” 

‘  ‘  Conatus !  ’ 1 

“It  is  Conatus!” 

Conatus  came.  Giving  all  most  excellent  words  and  tender  smiles, 
he  said  unto  them :  ‘  ‘  There  will  not  be  any  feast.  Seneca,  the  moral 
philosopher,  hath  sent  his  regrets,  saying  Caesar  hath  invited  him 
instead.  Hence  he  goeth  up  today  to  feast  with  Caesar.” 

“Will  Seneca  come  tomorrow?”  asked  one  of  the  boy  slaves. 

Conatus  reflected,  and  all  the  crowd  were  silent.  Then  said  he, 
“Seneca  will  not  come  tomorrow;  no,  nor  the  day  after.  Yet  he 
liveth  and  will  prosper  for  a  long  time.” 

All  the  servants  remained  a  good  while  silent. 

Then  some  laughed,  and  one  or  two  sobbed.  But  Conatus  went 
into  his  private  chamber.  There  he  knelt  and  prayed  fervently. 


396 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


CHAPTER  XLVI 
Life  Eternal 

Now  it  was  just  about  the  time  of  the  Roman  Saturnalia  (that 
period  of  the  year  when  slaves  were  given  their  liberties  for  a  week 
that  they  might  be  free  in  as  great  license  as  their  masters)  when 
the  trial  of  Simon  of  Cyrene  also  drew  a-nigh.  A  storm  seemed  ever 
impending.  The  weather,  spite  of  the  nearness  of  the  winter  solstice, 
was  sultry,  and  men  grew  irascible.  Frequent  brawls  took  place  in 
the  streets  and  open  spaces  of  the  city,  and  in  many  a  court  the 
servants  of  great  men  quarrelled  and  fought,  and  their  masters,  be¬ 
hind  drawn  curtains,  did  deeds  of  greater  darkness. 

And,  on  that  very  day  of  days,  but  ere  Simon  had  yet  departed 
in  fear  and  in  trembling  (yet  also  rejoicing  because  of  his  great 
strength)  to  the  basilica  wherein  his  trial  was  to  be,  he  called  unto 
him  Conatus  in  the  atrium,  and  said:  “Where  I  go,  ye  may  not  be 
also.  From  the  foundations  it  hath  been  ordained.  Moreover,  the 
time  of  the  Saturnalia  approacheth.  Hie  thee,  therefore,  out  of  mine 
insula,  and  get  thee  whithersoever  thou  wilt.  Life  is  hard  for  thee, 
for  everyone.  Such  pleasure  be  unto  thee,  therefore,  as  is  possible  or 
ere  the  end  which  soon  cometh  unto  all  shall  reach  even  thee,  O  light 
of  heart  but  overweary.77  He  motioned  him  not  to  speak,  but  to  be 
gone. 

Said  Conatus,  “But  I  will  speak.  Thou  goest  to  thy  trial,  it  may 
be  death.  And  I,  0  Master,  have  been  remiss  unto  thee,  not  by  any 
means  a  good  servant.  For  behold,  there  was  always — there  was 
always — a  thing  of  wdiich  I  ought — to  have  spoken —  Ah,  Master! 
I  have  no  more  tongue  than  face.  7 7  He  stood  in  the  fashion  of  slaves, 
and  could  not  in  any  wise  continue. 

His  master  therefore  pitied  him.  He  stroked  his  hair,  as  was  the 
way  with  masters  in  those  times,  whensoever  they  were  specially 
pleased  with  their  servants. 

“Thou  art  much  o 7erwatched, 7 7  said  Simon,  “and  dost  imagine 
ridiculous  things.77  At  this,  he,  looking  up  suddenly,  cried  aloud: 
“What  was  that?77 

“Naught  heard  1, 77  answered  the  steward.  Then  again:  “The 
water  is  exhausted  from  the  uppermost  jar  of  the  water-clock,  and, 
with  a  gurgling  sound,  it  starteth  running  from  the  nearest  under¬ 
vessel.  7  7  Then  the  old  slave  that  was  sitting  by  the  clock  moaned,  as 
he  were  a  mere  machine  unmindful  of  the  meaning  of  his  solemn 


A  PROMINENT  MAN 


397 


words:  “Be  true,  0  all,  be  true!  0  all!  That  time  shall  come  when 
time  shall  be  no  more.” 

Saith  Simon  to  Conatus,  “Heard  ye  not  yet  another  voice,  one 
which  saith  unto  me :  ‘ And  when  I  am  through  with  thee,  I  will 
break  thee,  and  yet  keep  thee’?” 

Conatus  turned  aside,  and  departed,  weeping,  to  his  room,  while 
his  Master,  still  in  the  atrium,  said  to  himself :  ‘  ‘  Oh  my  soul,  my  soul ! 
What  is  this  that  hath  come  over  thee?  Why,  in  these  latter  days, 
have  I  forgotten  to  hunt  the  mongrel,  Trivialis,  even  as  I  once  did 
promise  me  I  would  do,  meaning  to  take  sweet  revenge?  And  lately 
I  care  not  for  revenges  any  more.  Ever  it  runneth  in  my  heart  that 
any  man  upon  which  I  might  be  revenged  could  have  been  my 
brother.  An  eye  for  an  eye —  No,  no !  Can  I  cause  suffering  and 
not  suffer  therewith?  The  deed  cometh  ever  back  to  the  doer,  even 
as  love  cometh  home  eternally  and  bringeth  again  with  it —  Ah, 
poor  Conatus,  I  may  be,  on  a  day,  as  stuttering,  as  unconvincing,  as 
ineloquent,  as  thou  art.  Pray  God,  not  upon  this  trial.  Pray —  But 
I  must  behold  again  mine  other  servants — they  too  are  precious  unto 
me — ere  I  do  go.” 

He  went  out  into  the  farthest  courts  where  the  revelry  was  of  the 
Saturnalia,  a  feast  held  in  honor  of  Saturnus,  which  is  also  Chronos, 
or  Time,  first  of  the  kings  of  Rome.  And  lo,  the  men  and  the  women 
were  a-drunken  together  and  calling  upon  the  name  of  Saturnus. 
Most  had  cast  their  garments  off,  a  many  had  fought,  two  or  three 
of  the  men  were  dead  and  one  woman. 

And  Simon  departed  for  his  trial,  being  helpless  in  both  matters. 

Meanwhile,  in  the  Forum,  a  multitude  of  commoner  folk  had 
gathered  together,  as  it  were  with  a  mighty  and  common  impulse. 
And  Defectus,  who  was  one  of  these,  said  unto  Yulgus  and  Mobilis, 
his  boon  companions:  “Glad  to  see  you.  Whither  are  ye  bound?” 

Say  they :  “  To  the  Basilica,  where  Simon  of  Cyrene  standeth  upon 
trial  this  day.” 

Defectus:  “I  go  thither  also,  and  I  hope  we  shall  joyfully  hear  the 
prefect  send  that  villain  to  the  cross.  I  am  of  them  that  have  secretly 
imparted  information.” 

“Unto  the  cross  will  Simon  surely  go,”  quoth  Mobilis,  “and  that 
most  deservedly.” 

“Else  to  the  mines,”  put  in  Vulgus.  I  think — ”  Now  there  came 
out  of  a  clear  sky  a  burst  of  thunder  which  rolled  far  away  to  the 
eastward.  Defectus  saith,  ‘  ‘  Let  us  hurry :  we  may  get  no  place  at  the 
trial.” 

But  he  became  separate  from  his  friends,  owing  to  the  press,  and 


398 


SIMON  OF  GYRENE 


so  went  on  into  the  Basilica  as  best  he  could.  And  there  he  climbed 
upon  the  pedestal  of  Jove’s  great  statue,  and  looked  out  over  the 
writhing  sea  of  faces. 

And  the  prefect  came,  whose  name  was  Justus,  and  sate  upon  the 
high  tribunal.  Then  appeared,  tall,  dark  and  majestic,  the  Accuser, 
Sarcogenes.  After  him,  Simon  of  Cyrene. 

Simon  went  and  sate  in  the  place  among  the  subsellia  appointed 
for  criminals  to  sit  in.  Then  opened  the  prefect  the  court.  The  judg¬ 
ment  was  set,  the  books  brought. 

But  hardly  had  the  prefect  declared,  “Let  now  the  delation  be 
read  in  the  case  of  the  World  against  Simon  the  Jew,”  when  there 
arose  a  sudden  cry  of  many  loud  voices:  “Caesar!  Caesar!  Lord  of 
All  the  World!” 

And  behold,  from  a  side  door,  entered  Caesar.  The  multitude  cried 
again,  as  it  were  a  single  speech  of  adoration:  “Hail!  Caesar!  Jupi¬ 
ter!  Greatest  of  all  the  gods !  See !  We  bow  before  thee,  grovel  in  thy 
dust!  Hail!  Caesar  Omnipotens!  We  are  wholly  thine,  Divinity !” 

And  Caesar  removed  the  cause  from  the  hands  of  Justus,  and  sent 
Justus  away. 

And  Justus  went  forth  even  from  out  the  building  and  the  very 
purlieus  thereof. 

Then  said  in  his  heart  Def ectus,  ‘  ‘  I  thank  thee,  Mercury,  even  for 
this,  that  Caesar  hath  taken  up  the  case  of  Simon  of  Cyrene  into  his 
own  hands.  For  now  will  Simon  the  Jew  (whom  I  so  envy)  receive 
the  punishment  which  I  myself  would  long  ago  have  inflicted  upon 
him,  had  I  been  able.  The  cross!  The  mines!” 

. And  Conatus,  on  his  part,  when  he  had  left  his  Master’s 

domus,  went  forth  in  the  streets  and  lanes  of  Rome,  high  sorrowful. 

He  passed  a  certain  wineshop,  and  said:  “Not  in  there.” 

And  he  passed  another  wineshop,  but  again  he  said:  “Not  in 
there.  ’  ’ 

And  again,  “Not  in  there,  either.” 

For  the  man  was  aware  of  his  weakness,  and  would  not  deliver 
himself  unto  temptation. 

He  came  down  past  the  cells  of  many  harlots  which  were  in  the 
walls  of  the  Circus  Maximus.  But  again  he  said,  “Not  in  there, 
neither.  ’  ’ 

And  coming  round  through  the  Forum  Boarium,  and  into  the 
Street  of  The  Travellers,  he  saw  again  a  certain  wineshop  whence 
came  the  sounds  of  hilarity.  He  said,  “This  noise  is  what  I  need. 
And  what  does  it  matter  that  I  go  in,  if  truly  I,  being  careful,  do  not 
drink  ?  ’  ’ 


A  PROMINENT  MAN 


399 


So  he  went  in,  and  a  man  came  up  to  him  and  said :  ‘  ‘  Let  me  show 
thee  how,  lately,  I  was  robbed.” 

Said  Conatus,  ‘‘Show  me.” 

The  man  said,  “As  I  stood  in  the  street,  a  fellow  came,  saying,  ‘Let 
me  show  thee  how,  lately,  I  was  robbed.  ’  I  said,  ‘  Show  me.  ’  He  said, 
‘  Look,  then,  up  at  yonder  housetop  steadily  for  a  time,  and  thou  shalt 
be  greatly  surprised.’  Wishing  to  be  surprised,  I  looked,  and  he  ran 
his  hands  about  my  clothing — thus,  and  thus,  and  thus,  saying,  all  the 
while,  ‘Gaze  steadily  upon  the  housetop:  thou  shalt  be  surprised.’ 
And  when  he  had  finished,  he  ran  away — like  this.” 

And  the  fellow  also  ran.  Conatus  himself  was  much  surprised, 
for  he  found  that  all  his  money  had  been  taken. 

So  he  sate  in  the  wineshop,  but  could  not  drink,  for  that  he  had 
no  money. 

And  there  came  into  the  wineshop  and  sate  down  beside  him  one 
sadder  even  than  himself,  so  that  Conatus  was  afraid  to  say  aught 
unto  him,  because  of  his  excessive  sorrow. 

The  man  said,  “Tell  me  thy  name,  I  beseech  thee.” 

Conatus  answered  and  said  unto  him:  “My  name  is  Conatus,  an 
Attempt,  for  that  is  all  which  I  am  or  ever  may  be.  ’  ’ 

The  other  said,  “Mine  is  Trochus,  meaning  ‘Wheel.’  I  am  a  Greek. 
Seekest  thou  also  for  the  secret  of  eternal  life?” 

Conatus  answered,  “What  I  seek,  I  seek.” 

Said  Trochus,  when  he  saw  that  the  man  did  think  he  was  being 
mocked:  “Long  have  I  sought  the  secret,  and  I  find  it  not.”  He  told 
Conatus  of  the  way  in  which  he  had  come  to  know  there  was  such  a 
thing  as  a  secret  of  life  eternal.  “About  this  mystery  I  heard,”  said 
he,  “from  one  Kot,  an  Egyptian,  who  had  it  in  turn  from  Dulab,  an 
Arab,  and  he  from  Hemurta,  a  Syrian,  he  also  from  a  Phoenician, 
named  Galgal,  and  he  from  Chark,  the  Persian  so-called,  and  he, 
when  travelling  in  the  further  Orient,  had  had  it  from  Chakka,  who 
had  it  from  Cakra,  who,  in  his  turn,  had  received  it  out  of  the  mouth 
of  a  Tibetan,  Hkhvor.  And  the  Tibetan  had  had  it  from  the  lips  of 
a  Chinaman,  Chi  Lun.  And  the  man  of  Serica,  or  China,  who  dwelt 
not  far  from  the  aggeres  serium,  or  limiting  wall,  and  there  by  the 
borders  of  the  infinite  ocean  (which  washes  the  farthest  East)  had 
had  it  in  his  turn,  from  a  certain  Rota,  a  Roman  out  of  Cyrenaica, 
who  had  had  it  from  a  Vectis,  or  Lever,  who  had  had  it,  he  knew  not 
whence,  having  merely  overheard  it  in  a  street  in  Cyrene.  ’  ’ 

And  Rota  had  sought  through  many  lands  to  find  the  secret,  and 
gone  so  far  as  even  to  Serica,  by  the  side  of  the  infinite  ocean  which  is 


400 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


in  the  farthest  East,  and  there  had  died,  and  never  had  learned  the 
secret. 

Then  Chi  Lun,  who  had  had  the  question  from  the  lips  of  Rota,1 
“What  is  the  secret  of  eternal  life,”  said  this  man  unto  himself,  “The 
question  hath  come  from  the  West,  and  so  it  must  have  its  answer  in 
that  region.” 

And,  like  a  man  possessed,  he  set  off  westward,  but  perished  on  his 
journey.  Yet  not  before  he  had  given  the  question  unto  Hkhvor,1  and 
he  (before  he  died)  unto  Cakra,1  and  he  unto  Chakka,1  and  he  unto 
Chark,1  and  he  unto  Galgal,1  and  he  unto  Hemurta,1  and  he  unto  Du- 
lab,1  and  he  unto  Kot,1  until  at  length  the  question  did  come  to  me — 
whose  name  is  Trochus,  which  also  doth  mean  ‘a  wheel.’ 

“And  all  the  other  men  than  I,  Trochus,  be  dead  that  sought  the 
answer  to  this  question.  For  lo !  they  travelled  long  and  wearily  and 
were  sore  beset,  and  heavy  of  heart  and  without  hope  because  they  had 
never  received  any  answer  to  that  question  which  had  troubled  them 
so  greatly. 

“And  now  I  have  heard  that  Simon  of  Cyrene,  here  in  Rome,  a 
Jewish  merchant  and  philosopher,  can  answer  that  great  question. 
Therefore  seek  I  him.” 

Said  unto  this  man  yet  another  that  sate  in  the  shop,  “Simon  of 
Cyrene  is  on  trial  this  day,  and  for  his  life.” 

Conatus  wept. 

Questioned  Trochus,  “Is  it  even  so?” 

Said  Conatus,  “It  is  so.  For  I  am  the  steward  of  his  household, 
and  I  know  the  truth.  But  what  can  anyone  do  for  my  Master?” 

Came  unto  Trochus  the  keeper  of  the  shop,  and  said:  “Set  thy 
pileus  straight  on  thy  head,  and  come  along  with  me.  For  I  am  a 
secret  officer  of  the  court,  and  would  take  thee  to  Philautia,  Csesar’s 
wife,  who  hath  also  been  greatly  troubled  by  this  question.” 

CHAPTER  XL VII 
The  Infinite  Assize 

Said  Caesar  to  the  Nations,  in  a  voice  which  sounded  like  that  of 
a  devil  from  the  mouth  of  a  hippopotamus:  “I  thank  you,  my  chil¬ 
dren,  for  your  divine  worship.” 

Then  settled  he  his  fatnesses  on  the  high  seat  of  justice,  trying 
the  while  to  look  like  an  immortal  and  imperturbable  god,  but  pulling 
at  the  pale  fat  bulged  round  his  heavy  throat,  and  puffing  still  with 
the  high  exertion  of  having  entered  the  room. 


1  A  wheel.  The  words  are  taken  from  various  Oriental  languages. 


A  PROMINENT  MAN 


401 


Said  he,  “As  all  of  you — know — the  temple  of  Jupiter — my  temple 
indeed — hath  this  day  been  stricken,  and  lo !  there  are  other  signs 
and  wonders  of  great  dangers  to  the  world.  Therefore,  today  (as 
now  and  then  our  divinity  doth)  we  will  ourselves  hear  all  important 
cases.  Thereafter  may  the  best  of  litigants  back  to  their  own  mere 
prefects  and  projects.  Who  is  this  to  be  charged?  Is  this  some 
ancient  stink  to  be  stirred  up,  or  what?  Where  is  the  delator? 
Read. 7  7 

Stood  forthright  Ophidion,  the  lean  and  tall  and  dark,  and, 
wetting  his  thin  lips  with  the  tip  of  his  small,  sharp  tongue,  and 
looking  at  Caesar  with  bright,  metallic  eyes,  he  said  most  calmly: 
“Lord  God  of  all  that  is,  even  Caesar,  ruler  of  space  and  of  time 
and  of  men’s  souls,  I  do  bow  down  and  worship  thee.  For  who  is 
like  unto  thee  for  glory,  0  Divine  and  Incomparable,  and  who  for 
power  and  who  for  everlastingness?  And  also  who  am  I  that  I 
should  have  the  privilege  of  pleading  before  thee,  Caesar?77 

“Thou  hast  the  privilege  we  give  all  our  subjects,”  said  his 
Majesty  calmly. 

Drew  Sarcogenes  himself  up  like  an  archangel,  and  declared 
before  the  world :  ‘  ‘  Thou  makest  me  to  be  proud,  for  thou  hast  given 
unto  me  Caesar’s  countenance  and  a  right  to  speak.” 

He  paused  for  a  time,  as  if  he  were  weighing  certain  matters 
and  were  also  determining  to  be  very  just  as  concerning  them.  And 
having  wet  again  with  his  little  lean  tongue  his  thin  lips,  he  made  a 
general  charge  against  Simon  of  Cyrene,  wherein  he  impressed  his 
fellow  worldsmen  mightily  with  the  lack  of  every  value  in  the  Jew. 
Having  done  this,  he  settled  to  a  list  of  specific  charges,  to  wit: 

“1.  This  Simon  of  Cyrene  bore  the  cross  for  Christ,  the  great 
enemy,  0  Caesar,  of  thy  dominion.”  Hereat  did  Caesar  frown 
mightily. 

“2.  He  worshippeth  clouds  and  thunder.1 

“3.  He  adoreth  an  ass’s  head.1 

“4.  He  worshippeth  swine,  therefore  will  not  eat  of  a  swine’s 
flesh.1 

“5.  But  he  eateth  the  flesh  of  human  beings. 

‘  ‘  6.  And  useth  the  blood  of  a  boy  in  his  sacrificial  rites. 

“7.  He  cooketh  and  eateth  annually  a  Greek,  swearing  hostility 
to  Athens,  center  of  learning.1 

“8.  He  is  a  mere  merchant  only,  caring  for  nothing  but  wealth. 

“9.  He  is  a  skeptic,  believing  in  no  god. 

1  A  common  charge  made  by  the  Romans,  in  those  days,  against  Jews. 

26 


402 


SIMON  OF  GYRENE 


‘  ‘  10.  He  believeth  in  one  single  God  only,  but  that  a  god  of  vice. 

“11.  He  is  a  man  of  three  letters. 

“12.  He  hath  braken,  unpardoned,  and  only  by  violence,  out  of 
the  Mines  of  the  Wretched — thy  noble  mines,  O  Caesar. 

‘  ‘  13.  He  hath  been  a  wanderer  upon  the  earth. 

*  ‘  14.  He  is  a  horse-leech,  or  usurer. 

“15.  He  is  a  fool. 

“16.  He  is  a  formalist,  and  even  his  co-religionists  do  hate  him 
for  that  fact. 

“17.  He  is  a  thief . 

“18.  He  hath  abandoned  his  own  true  wife,  Berith,  and  left  her 
to  die  of  shipwreck. 

“19.  He  hath  peculiar  views  on  time  and  space,  eternity  and 
matter — which  do  not  compliment  thy  majesty  much  or  make  full 
allowance  to  thy  holy  divinity. 

“20.  But  last  and  chief est  of  the  charges  as  against  this  man 
is  this — he  hath  condemned  our  own  gods  utterly,  most  of  all — thee. 
Thy  pardon,  O  Caesar,  that  I  should  so  much  as  hint  at  the  existence 
of  this  so  great  a  crime.  But  thou  knowest  I  do  verily  worship  thee. 
Thy  might  and  thy  power  and  thy  radiance  are  unto  me  as  signs  from 
heaven.  Therefore  take  I  this  liberty  [here  he  strode  toward  Simon, 
his  face  white  and  his  eyes  fixed  fiercely  on  the  man]  of  charging 
Simon  of  Cyrene  with  blasphemy  against  thy  godhead.” 

He  once  more  paused.  The  crowd  watched  Caesar,  Caesar  watched 
the  crowd,  each  fearful  lest  it  might  offend  the  other.  But,  truly, 
there  was  little  need  for  this,  for  the  souls  of  the  two — the  crowd 
and  of  Caesar — were  in  necessary  harmony,  each  having  made  the 
other  what  it  was. 

Then,  being  at  the  close  of  his  list  of  charges,  Sarcogenes  uttered 
a  wonderful  speech,  whereby  he  wove  a  spell  about  the  multitude,  so 
that  Caesar,  as  he  saw  that  this  was  so,  was  moved  in  turn:  moved 
to  laughter  and  to  tears,  to  anger  and  also  to  bitter  hate. 

And  Sarcogenes,  he  that  was  likewise  Ophidion,  wound  up  crying : 
“Even  as  Jesus  (whose  cross  he  bore)  was  tried  for  blasphemy  at 
Jerusalem,  so  try  I  now  this  Simon  of  Cyrene  for  blasphemy  in  Home 
and  before  all  the  world — blasphemy  as  against  thee,  O  divine  and 
everlasting  Caesar.  Let  the  man  of  sacrilegium  be  adjudged.” 

And  a  great  clap  of  thunder  brake  out  again  over  the  city,  and 
flying  clouds  for  a  moment  blackened  the  court  of  the  Basilica.  Then 
drops  of  rain  splashed  over  faces  and  stones.  Even  a  passionate,  sud¬ 
den  gust  of  wind  sprang  up,  tossed  the  leaves  of  the  shrubs  which 
grew  in  the  marble  niches  of  the  walls,  and  flung  the  hair  of  Simon 


A  PROMINENT  MAN 


403 


of  Cyrene  about  his  shoulders.  The  statue  of  Mercury  fell  from  its 
pedestal,  and  burst. 

“Hast  thou  said  thy  say?”  asked  Caesar. 

“I  have  said  it,”  declared  Ophidion.  But  then,  all  at  once,  for 
that  he  was  a  very  wily  man,  he  quickly  uprose  again,  and  made  a 
petition,  saying:  “I  crave  thy  pardon,  Lord  of  All  the  Universe, 
but  here  be  certain  pages  which  I  did  truly  forget  to  read  in  this 
the  delation  which  I  have  brought  against  the  Jew.  Suffer  me  now 
to  read  the  delation  over,  that  all  the  matters  of  charge  against  this 
man  may  be  heard  by  the  peoples  and  by  thee.” 

But  Cgesar  knew  well  that  his  friend  had  omitted,  and  could,  in 
fact,  omit,  nothing  of  charge  as  against  Simon  of  Cyrene,  but  only 
desired  to  make  the  multitude  believe  that  what  he  had  said  was  but 
a  portion  of  the  whole  indictment.  Therefore  said  Caesar  unto  him, 
“No,  no!  By  mine  own  divinity!  I  will  not  treat  this  Simon  of 
Cyrene  with  unfairness.” 

Then  stood  up  Simon  of  Cyrene  before  Caesar  and  before  all  the 
world. 

And  Simon  heard  in  the  Forum  the  sounds  of  gentle  trade,  but, 
in  the  street  behind  the  Basilica,  a  great  noise  and  shouts:  “Bear  ye 
your  crosses !  On !  On  to  the  Esquiline !  On !  ’  ’  Then  the  crack  of 
whips  and  piteous  complaining.  Till  the  day  of  the  passing  of  time 
Simon  of  Cyrene  never  felt  again  so  holden  from  a  thing  without. 

And  it  pleased  God  to  afflict  His  servant  with  nervous  fears, 
for,  in  all  the  fiery  trials  which  the  Lord  had  called  upon  him  hitherto 
to  endure,  he  had  never,  as  yet,  suffered  half  the  like  of  this.  For 
he  saw  with  preternatural  clearness  the  consequences  of  this  trial. 
According  to  the  wise  in  which  he  should  meet  these  complaints,  the 
end  for  him  would  be  either  liberty  and  splendor,  or  ignominy,  suf¬ 
fering,  death.  His  tongue,  therefore,  clave  to  the  roof  of  his  mouth, 
and  he  looked  out  over  the  multitude. 

But  even  as  he  looked  and  beheld,  ranged  round  the  walls,  the 
mighty  gods  both  of  Egypt  and  of  India,  of  Britain,  of  Gaul,  and  of 
Greece  and  of  Rome,  and  even  the  war  gods  of  Germania  Barbara, 
and  also  the  priests  of  every  religion,  and  the  peoples  from  every 
land,  and  men  that  he  knew — Yulgus  and  Mobilis,  Constans,  Incon- 
stans,  Candidus,  and  Defectus,  and  likewise  many  another  also,  it 
seemed  to  him  that,  upon  this  trial,  he  was  strangely  freed  from  time 
and  space,  as  if,  indeed,  he  had  stood  up  for  his  life  before,  all  alone, 
even  over  against  such  an  unplaced  and  dateless  tribunal  of  world 
dominion,  ten  thousand  times  already — as  if,  too,  he  had  felt  this 
formless  fear,  the  desolate  aching  at  the  heart,  ten  thousand  times 


404 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


ten  thousand  times.  Oh  Adonai !  Why  had  not  he,  Simon,  gone 
back  to  the  Land  of  Israel  when  escaped  from  the  Mines  of  the 
Wretched?  0  thou  Land,  thou  Land! 

And  one  in  the  press  (whom  Simon  could  not  just  then  see,  but 
he  thought  it  Christopherus)  cried  out,  “Speak,  Simon  of  Cyrene, 
speak  to  the  Nations,  and  speak  truth.” 

Caesar  also  adjured  him  saying:  “By  mine  own  divinity — ah-h-h! 
I  wax  fatter  every  day — I  adjure  thee  to  speak  truth.  Answer  the 
charges  of  Ophidion.  Tell  us  thy  life.  Call  it  forth  out  of  the  rotten 
storehouse  of  dead  time,  and  make  it  to  live  before  our  eyes.” 

Then,  as  in  a  vision,  the  past  opened  its  gates.  And  Simon  of 
Cyrene,  looking  within,  spake  with  his  ageless  mouth  to  all  this 
world.  And,  as  he  spake,  he,  looking  around,  beheld  the  peoples  that 
they  were  changed  and  yet  not  changed.  And  all  the  while  he  was 
keeping  careful  watch  and  ward — as  it  were  a  veritable  seal  of 
cautiousness — over  his  tongue. 

And  he  upon  whom  the  ends  of  the  world  had  arrived  and  yet 
more  also,  said  to  Cassar  and  the  multitude:  “Ye  men  of  Rome — 
which  is  the  world — and  thou  also,  0  Caesar,  the  whole  world’s  lord, 
give  audience.  If  I  am  rude  in  speaking  (and  Ophidion  hath  declared 
me  to  be  a  merchant  merely)  and  know  not  how  to  bend  the  voice 
and  manner  unto  the  thing  expressed,  yet  will  I  say  to  you  all  the 
mere  truth  alone.  Suffer  ye  this  to  make  up  for  my  trader-like 
deficiencies.  ’  ’ 

Here  he  paused  for  a  considerable  time,  wondering  what  he  should 
say  next.  Then  he  began  again  in  an  altogether  different  key,  having 
grown  bolder.  “And,  first  of  all,”  said  he,  “  (for,  O  Csesar,  first  of  all 
it  should  be  mentioned)  about  this  charge  that  I  do  blaspheme  against 
Caesar  and  the  other  gods.  Search  ye  mine  insula,  0  ye  Nations,  and 
behold  if,  in  all  its  courts,  there  be  not  many  idols.  Search  ye  again, 
and  see  if  in  each  and  every  court  there  be  not  images  of  Caesar. 
And  always  is  Caesar’s  image  the  finest  and  the  largest.” 

Hereat,  Caesar  grinned  with  a  fatty  delight,  and  the  crowd  cried : 
“Caesar!  Great  is  Caesar!  Greatest  of  all  the  gods!  Caesar  is  he!” 

“Next,  as  to  the  charge  that  I  am  a  merchant  merely,  reckless 
of  all  the  rights  of  art.”  He  stopped  and  made  a  little  motion,  as 
of  one  that  weighed  and  counted  coins.  “Ye  do  know  that,  as  to 
painting  and  to  building  and  also  to  the  making  of  fine  images,  I 
am  not  in  any  wise  the  equal  of  the  Greeks,  but  who  indeed  can  sur¬ 
pass  in  many  matters?  Yet,  in  music,  I  have  written  songs  which 
all  the  world  loveth,  and,  as  to  Germania  Barbara,  the  best  of  her 
songs — as  Krieg  himself,  the  king  thereof,  hath  declared  unto  me — 


A  PROMINENT  MAN 


405 


were  made  by  me,  even  Simon. — But  all  further  answers  as  to  things 
like  these,  I  leave  for  the  mouths  of  others  than  myself.  The  world 
knoweth.  ’  ’ 

Then  spake  he  for  a  time  concerning  Berith,  the  sweet  rose  of 
Sharon,  whom  he  had  well  loved  in  his  youth.  And  he  showed  that 
the  shipwreck  of  this  woman  was  not  (as  he  supposed)  in  any  wise  or 
manner  his  own  fault.  And,  when  he  had  finished,  the  eyes  of  the 
peoples  were  bright  with  many  tears. 

“Then,”  said  he,  “as  about  the  charges  of  my  being  a  horse¬ 
leech,  and  a  fool,  and  a  formalist  and  thief,  I  know  that  many  in  this 
multitude  believe  indeed  that  I  am  all  these  things.  And  behold,  it 
is  true  that  certain  of  my  nation  can  be  charged  with  formalism, 
and  with  theft,  with  folly  and  with  graspingness.  But  lo !  I  always 
have  striven  terribly  that  so  it  might  not  be.  Ye  lay  on  my  shoulders 
the  vices  of  these  other  men — my  brethren.”  After  a  few  beats  of 
his  heart,  he  told  them:  “As  well  charge  Caesar  with  the  faults  of 
brother  musicians,  though  he  himself  doth  play  as  never  have  played 
the  divine  fingers  of  Apollo.” 

In  the  crowd  came  a  little  stir.  A  voice  cried,  “Tell  us  thy  life. 
Then  can  we  soothly  judge  thee.” 

Caesar  turned  in  his  curule  chair,  and  saith,  not  unkindly:  “Yea, 
tell  us  thy  life.  Yea,  good  Jew,  say  on.” 

i  ‘  In  brief,  ’  ’  answered  Simon  of  Cyrene.  And  he  spake  in  a  loud, 
clear  voice  that  the  peoples  might  all  understand.  Even  as  he  spake, 
the  head  of  the  Monarch  of  all  this  World  inclined  softly  toward 
him,  listening,  and  the  eyes  of  him  that  had  read  the  delation,  grew 
dark  and  wide  and  terrible  with  hate  and  unspeakable  fear.  And 
so  much  persecution  had  the  man  of  Cyrenaica  endured  that  he  had 
contracted  an  almost  habitual  gesture,  that,  namely,  of  holding  out 
before  him  a  pair  of  supplicating  hands — a  gesture  not  unknown  to 
fine  and  studied  oratory,  but,  with  him,  become  a  matter  of  mere 
instinct  and  use.  And  so  indeed  he  stood  for  the  more  part.  Yet 
again  he  would  lift  his  arms  like  great  beams  from  his  sides,  and 
stand,  as  it  were  a  human  cross. 

He  made  a  little  peroration,  in  which  he  pleaded  both  for  justice 
(and  where  should  any  one  go  for  justice  but  to  the  court  of  Caesar) 
and  for  leniency  on  the  part  of  all  that,  like  himself,  had  wandered 
and  suffered  much.  And  the  murmuring  multitude  became  silent, 
even  the  walls — those  marble  walls  set  round  with  images  of  innumer¬ 
able  gods — ceased  to  echo  and  to  complain,  lest  they,  too,  might  miss 
some  word  about  Jehovah,  the  one  Lord  God  of  the  universe.  Yet 


406 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


spake  Simon  of  Cyrene,  with  the  voice  of  his  own  mouth,  never  a 
word  as  concerning  Jehovah. 

“Hearken!”  cried  he — this  man  who  spake  not  merely  unto 
Caesar,  but  likewise  unto  many  generations  throughout  space  and 
time.  “Hearken,  0  Caesar!  Hearken,  ye  peoples!  And  hearken  to 
the  tale  of  a  simple  trader,  and  of  how  it  came  about  that  he  did 
begin  to  trade. 

“Born  was  I  in  Cyrenaica.  I  was  son  to  Shem  and  Shemaiah. 
And  I  am  noble,  and  yet  not  noble,  for,  like  each  mere  man,  I  have 
much  that  is  twilit  in  mine  ancestry.  Among  mere  shepherds  was 
I  born — though  my  father  was  a  noble  among  peoples  of  his  kind — 
and  I  myself  became  a  shepherd.  Yet,  amid  the  rocks  and  pastures 
of  Pentapolis,  seeing  the  caravans  of  trade  go  by  daily — out  of  the 
desert  into  the  city  and  out  of  the  city  back  into  the  desert  once 
more — there  sprang  up  in  me  a  great  love  of  commerce — though,  at 
that  time,  I  knew  not  all  my  own  soul. 

“Become  a  youth,  I  quarrelled  with  my  father’s  steward — quar¬ 
relled  because  I  hated  him,  and  because,  in  the  human  heart,  there 
liveth  ever  a  yearning  of  that  beastly  god,  Revenge,  after  his  own 
natural  provender. 

“On  a  day,  I  sinned.  Even  as  hath  every  man  and  woman,  by 
hand  or  by  heart,  so  sinned  I. 

“I  slew — rather,  I  thought  I  had  slain — my  father’s  steward.” 

“Why  didst  thou  attempt  to  slay  this  man?”  asked  Caesar. 

Thereupon  Simon  trembled.  Then  he  smiled  at  Caesar,  and,  not 
withdrawing  his  eyes  from  his  Majesty’s  orbs,  said:  “That  man 
traduced  the  Lord  of  all  this  Universe.” 

Now,  Caesar  in  his  heart  believed  that  Simon  of  Cyrene,  by  “Lord 
of  all  this  Universe,”  did  mean  himself,  Caesar.  He,  therefore,  gave 
back  to  the  Jew  smile  for  smile,  and  said  unto  him:  “Continue. 
Thou  art  a  good  man.” 

“I  fled.  And  I  hid  me  in  the  tomb  of  my  father,  and  only  came 
forth  therefrom  when  I  beheld  a  sunny-headed  Greek,  who,  riding 
up  toward  me,  led  a  whole  caravan  with  song  and  laughter  and  with 
a  bright  torch.  And  with  him  I  travelled  far  and  learned  much, 
for  he  taught  me  not  like  a  master  at  school  but  like  a  father  and  a 
god.” 

“His  name?”  demanded  Caesar. 

f  ‘  Lampadephorus.  ’  ’ 

“Lampadephorus!”  Hereat  Caesar  tugged  at  the  fat  about  his 
throat.  Said  he,  “I  knew  that  man.”  He  made  a  motion  as  if  dis- 


A  PROMINENT  MAN 


407 


carding  a  thing  most  precious.  And  he  said,  “It  was  wholly  neces¬ 
sary — that  I  parted —  Go  on.” 

Simon  spake  of  his  days  in  Egypt,  wherein  Ophidion  (now  delator 
in  this  case)  together  with  a  certain  woman  of  vile  resort,  did  seek 
to  defraud  him  of  a  locket.  Then  of  a  similar  snare  at  Petra,  again 
in  old  Canaan.  But  in  all  these  matters  spake  Simon  of  Cyrene 
neither  of  religion  nor  of  God. 

Told  he  of  his  days  in  the  belly  of  the  ship,  Babylonia,  his  return 
to  Palestine,  his  marriage  to  that  excellent  woman  of  his  own  way 
and  tribe,  even  Berith,  or  Amahnah. 

Simon  of  Cyrene  paused  again.  He  would  offend  no  one,  neither 
Jew — no,  nor  Christian,  nor  any  other  idolater. 

“I  come,”  said  he  unto  Cagsar,  “I  come — now  I  come — unto  a 
day — unto  a  day  of  days — a  day  of  which — of  which  I  had  rather 
by  far  not  speak — but  that  the  need  thereof — that  everything  be 
expressed — ” 

Caesar :  4  4 1  bade  thee  say  all.  ’  ’ 

Simon:  “And  all  I  will  therefore  say. — Upon  that  hour,  0  Caesar, 
which  seems  to  have  been  a  turning-point  in  my  whole  life,  a  crest 
in  the  long  hill,  or  mountain  rather,  of  my  history,  as  indeed  in  the 
lives  of  so  many  others —  I  know  not  why,  but  upon  that  day,  which 
seems  to  have  been  so  fateful,  so  full  as  one  may  say  of  great  destiny, 
so  big  with  fortune,  of  promise,  of  hate,  of  curses,  also  of  such 
unparalleled  love — upon  that  day—” 

Caesar :  4  ‘  Say  on !  Else  a  cross  awaiteth  thee.  ’ 1 

Simon :  “So  did  it  on  that  day,  0  Caesar,  but  in  more  meanings — ” 

Caesar:  “Yet  thou  livest!” 

Simon:  “After  a  fashion — differently.” 

Caesar :  4  4  But  on  that  day  ?  ’  ’ 

Simon:  4 4 But  on  that  day,  as  I  chanced  to  be  returning  from 
the  country,  behold!  a  dusty  multitude  burst  forth  out  of  the  Gate 
of  the  Gardens,  and,  in  their  midst,  a  man  called  Jesus.  He,  as  it 
seems,  was  hateful  to  certain  of  our  high  people — unto  the  Homans 
as  well.  Therefore  had  He  been  condemned  to  death  by  crucifixion, 
and  indeed  He  bare,  though  but  faintly,  His  own  cross.  I,  therefore, 
as  I  came  anigh  unto  the  multitude  and  unto  Jesus,  was  laid  hands 
upon.  And  me  they  compelled  to  carry  the  tree. 

4  4  Him,  then,  they  crucified. 

“But  I,  when  the  soul  of  the  Man  had  departed,  came  down  to 
the  foot  of  the  hill. 

“And  there  I  met,  0  Csesar,  this  same  man,  mine  Accuser  on  this 
day.  On  that  day  also  was  he  mine  Adversary.  For  that  he  did 


408 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


falsely  apprehend  me  and  later  falsely  accuse  me  before  Pilate  and 
the  world.  Wherefore  do  I  even  until  this  very  hour,  upon  my  fore¬ 
head,  bear  these  three  false  letters.  But  this  man  was  then  called, 
not,  indeed,  ‘  Sarcogenes, ’  or  ‘He  That  is  Born  of  the  Flesh,’  but 
‘Ophidion,’  ‘The  Little  Serpent.’  ” 

Suddenly  uprose  the  serpentine  Sarcogenes,  as  he  were  again  an 
archangel,  crying :  “  It  is  a  lie,  a  lie  most  damned.  ’  ’ 

In  a  shout  of  thunder  the  base  denial  was  taken  up  and  repeated 
by  the  innumerable  voices  of  all  the  nations  throughout  the  im¬ 
measurable  basilica. 

And  Cassar,  when  he  had  perceived  that  the  nations  stood,  in  this 
matter,  on  the  part  and  side  of  his  favorite,  Sarcogenes,  then  he  also 
stood  on  the  side  and  part  of  that  same  man,  saying:  “Simon  of 
Cyrene,  why  pervertest  thou  truth?” 

But  Simon  saith  unto  him,  “I  pervert  truth  not.  But  he,  Sarco¬ 
genes,  that  false  Christian — ” 

‘  ‘  I  Christian !  ’  ’  shouted  then  again  the  foaming  and  stately  arch¬ 
angel.  ‘  ‘  I  Christian !  ’  ’ 

“Thou,”  answered  Simon,  “even  thou.  Thou  hast  a  long  time 
said  thou  wast  a  Christian.  Wilt  thou  now  deny  it?” 

Then  the  favorite  of  Caesar,  even  Sarcogenes,  when  that  he  was 
so  pressed,  here  before  all  the  nations  of  the  world,  did  basely  deny, 
wholly  repudiate,  and  forever  reject  Him  that  would  gladly  have 
been  his  savior,  had  but  the  Man  of  Wickedness  so  willed. 

And  the  hall  was  silent,  for  many  in  that  hall  had  heard  Sarco¬ 
genes  (in  private)  both  acknowledge  and  declare  Jesus’  eternal 
sovereignty. 

Said  Caesar,  “I  see  we  have  the  words  of  each  of  these  two  mighty 
men  poised  and  weighing  equally  before  us.  I  shall  have  to  think.” 

Now  Simon  saw  with  unmistaking  eye  that  he  was  not  yet  quite 
lost,  if  only  he  once  again  could  reach  the  mind  or  touch  the  heart 
of  Caesar.  He  therefore  sought  for  a  way  whereby  to  do  this. 

But  the  Man  of  Evil,  Sarcogenes,  with  death  raging  in  his  soul, 
cried  in  a  great  voice: 

“Caesar!  Let  us  put  this  matter  to  a  test.  What  is  the  point 
and  kernel  of  the  day?  Is  it  not  as  to  whether  or  no  this  Simon 
of  Cyrene  is  opposed  and  basely  as  unto  thy  godship?  Is  it  not 
even  so?” 

Now  Caesar  was  greatly  jealous  of  his  godship.  Therefore  he 
gladly  said,  “Yea,  it  is  even  so.” 

“Then  ask  him,”  cried  the  infuriate  one,  “ask  him  here  in  the 
presence  of  thyself,  and  of  myself  also,  and  of  all  the  priests  of  all 


A  PROMINENT  MAN 


409 


religions,  and  of  all  the  philosophers,  and  of  all  the  powers  and 
mights,  and  kingdoms  and  principalities  of  this  world,  and  of  all  its 
innumerable  peoples,  to  say  and  to  declare  before  them  all,  and  for 
all  time  past  and  for  all  time  to  come,  whether  thou  be  or  not  be — 
Jehovah,  the  one  Lord  and  God  that  he  worshippeth  alone.’ ’ 

Saith  Caesar,  ‘  ‘  That  is  fair.  Say  unto  me,  then,  Simon  of  Cyrene, 
whether  I,  Caesar,  be  or  not  be,  him  whom  alone  thou  worshippest, 
even  Jehovah.” 

As  he  finished  asking,  there  came  a  marvelous  silence  in  the  hall. 
And  the  eyes  of  them  that  were  there  assembled  were  fixed  and 
bright  on  Simon  of  Cyrene.  But  never,  for  a  beat  of  time,  did  Simon 
remove  his  eyes  from  Caesar’s.  For  a  while  he  thought  he  should 
have  fallen  dead.  Then  he  heard  the  sounds  of  a  great  procession 
pressing  onward  in  the  Forum:  “Way  there,  way!  Way  for  the 
goods,  wares  and  merchandises  of  Simon  of  Cyrene.  Way!  know 
ye  not  how  great  that  man  is?”  And  the  noise  of  the  city  was  like 
a  marvelous  faint  tune  to  him,  and  still  he  could  not  take  his  eyes 
from  Caesar’s.  He  felt  that  he  was  growing  old  and  pallid,  as  if  with 
the  burden  of  a  million  years.  He  saw,  or  appeared  to  himself  to 
see,  in  the  back  of  the  hall,  the  expectant  faces  of  Demos  (grown 
old  also)  and  Mobilis  and  Vulgus,  and  that  Defectus —  He  recalled 
again  a  certain  advice  which  he  had  once  given  at  his  own  sessions 
unto  Defectus — “The  success  which  is  most  difficult  is  the  most  cer¬ 
tain.  Thou  leanest  on  old  and  merely  mechanical  contrivances.  Seek 
to  invent.  Strive  ever  for  new  (and  wanted)  matters.  Get  thee 
especially  that  vigor  and  concentration  of  the  mind  which  governs 
men  and  things.” 

4  ‘  I  am  waiting !  ’  ’  saith  Caesar.  4  ‘  Am  I  J ehovah  ?  ’  ’ 

Simon  thought  for  a  moment  that  he  would  have  said  unto  the 
beast,  “Yea,  0  Caesar,  thou  art  very  God,  the  Jehovah  whom  I  wor¬ 
ship,”  but  he  had  not  hungered  and  thirsted  for  Adonai  from  his 
tenderest  years  to  feel  no  anger  at  the  royal  questioning.  So  he  only 
answered,  “Thou  art  the  Lord  of  Time  and  of  Space  and  of  Matter. 
Thou  art  indeed  the  lord  of  all  these.” 

“But,”  cried  again  Sarcogenes,  “ask  him  who  is  Lord  of  Eternity 
and  the  world  which  is  yet  to  come — in  which  is  neither  matter,  space, 
nor  time— ask  him  if  thou  be  not  indeed  Jehovah.” 

And  Caesar  having  asked — 

Then  the  eyes  of  Simon  of  Cyrene  grew  large  and  round  and 
deep.  And,  looking  at  Caesar,  but  seeing  eternity  alone,  and  feeling  a 
strange  impulse  run  before  his  will,  he  shouted,  as  it  were  with  the 
voice  of  Jehovah  himself  through  the  lips  of  a  bright  trumpet: 


410 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


“Thou  art  not  God.  Thou  art  not  even  God’s  ape,  but  the  ape  of 
the  Devil,  the  quintessence  of  the  corruption  and  the  iniquities  of 
this  world.” 

And  Caesar  shrank  in  his  curule  chair,  and  shook  as  with  ague. 

The  hall  was  tomb  silent.  Simon  felt  in  his  breast  the  thing 
which  he  had  done,  and  said  softly :  ‘  ‘  Lost !  I  am  lost !  ’  ’  But  Caesar 
was  also  silent,  for  in  his  soul  he  knew  very  well  who  was  the  Lord 
of  the  World  that  was  to  come,  and,  though  he  feared  Him  less  each 
day,  and  might  on  a  time  forget  Him  wholly,  yet  still  he  feared  and 
still  he  shuddered — and  still  for  a  time  spake  not. 

But  that  evil  one,  Sarcogenes,  though  he  too,  for  a  while,  had 
trembled,  quickly  recovered  his  soul  and  countenance,  and,  with  rage 
and  death  permeating  his  murderous  heart,  said,  but  sweetly:  “I,  0 
Caesar,  I  say  thou  art  Jehovah.” 

“I  am  beholden  unto  thee,”  acknowledged  Caesar,  “for  the 
truth.  ’  ’  He  sate  up  again,  and  might  indeed  have  pronounced  a  fear¬ 
ful  sentence  against  Simon  of  Cyrene — although  there  was  in  his 
heart  a  struggle  between  his  imperial  godship  and  his  lingering  fear 
of  Jehovah — but  that,  at  this  very  moment,  there  entered  the  room 
the  partner  of  his  soul,  his  queen  and  the  mistress  of  all  lands  of 
earth,  even  Philautia,  whose  name,  interpreted,  meaneth,  “Self- 
Love,”  or  “Selfishness.”  She  had  just  been  talking  with  Trochus 
and  the  secret  agent  which  had  brought  him  unto  her.  In  this  way 
the  long  spoke  words  of  Shem  and  Betah  had,  through  a  Lever  and 
full  many  a  wheel,  wrought  out,  for  the  suffering  Jew,  at  least 
temporary  salvation. 

She  was  a  handsome  woman,  Philautia,  in  the  full  tide  of  life, 
clad  in  a  regal  robe  like  unto  the  stored  up  splendor  of  many  hot 
fires — but  under  it  showed  another  garment  hued  like  ashes.  And 
the  multitude  shouted:  “Was  ever  woman  so  queenly  made?  Look 
on  the  high-arched  nose,  the  brow  of  pride,  the  set,  imperious  mouth, 
the  eyes  of  stern  commanding.  So  great  is  Philautia  that  she  seeth 
us  not.  Hail  to  Philautia,  all  hail!”  And  indeed  her  narrow  eyes 
were  strangely  bright  and  immovable,  always  fixed  on  something 
little  and  quite  near  at  hand.  Just  now  she  saw  merely  the  watery 
orbs  of  her  consort. 

Going  to  Caesar,  she  said  in  a  voice  like  a  spring  bird’s  in  the 
morning:  “Caesar!  My  love,  my  life!” 

Caesar  turned  and  greeted  her:  “What  wouldst  thou?  Sit  down, 
my  queen,  my  self.” 

Philautia  sate  by  Caesar  and  said,  so  softly  that  Simon  of  Cyrene 
rather  knew  her  thought  than  caught  her  words:  “The  secret  of 


A  PROMINENT  MAN 


411 


eternal  life,  thou  knowest  I  long  have  sought  it.  Also  thou,  even 
as  all  men — though  ofttimes  they  realize  not  the  fact.” 

Said  Caesar,  “I  know.” 

Then  said  again  Philautia,  “There  hath  come  to  the  palace  in 
this  very  hour  one  that  hath  had  a  message  from  the  farthest  East. 
Even  from  the  shore  of  the  illimitable  ocean,  had  he  it.  And  he 
seeketh  also  this  same  life  that  we  and  all  men  seek.  And  he,  from 
his  messenger,  hath  learned  that,  even  in  this  very  Jew  which  is 
upon  his  trial,  this  Simon  of  Cyrene,  abideth  the  secret  we  are 
seeking.  ‘Salvation  is  from  the  Jew,’  saith  he.  Slay  not  him,  there¬ 
fore.  Moreover,  he  is  such  a  gainer  of  moneys  unto  thee  as  never  in 
any  wise  could  other  mortal  man  become.” 

“As  thou  wouldest,  0  my  heart,”  saith  Csesar.  “Yet  this  one 
question  I  will  ask  him  ere  I  release  him — that  is,  for  the  day  and 
hour — what  thinketh  he  of  Jesus?” 

He  said  aloud  to  Simon,  ‘  ‘  J ew,  I  am  half  a  notion  I  should  release 
thee,  at  least  for  the  nonce.  Of  course  I  ought  to  execute  thee.  But 
first  say  to  me,  This  Jesus,  this  philosopher,  this  Jewish  impostor — 
believest  thou  on  Him?” 

Simon  of  Cyrene  was  again  greatly  torn — partly  because,  of  late, 
and  chiefly  on  account  of  Conatus,  there  had  grown  up  in  his  soul  an 
immense  love  of  Christ,  also  because,  in  that  very  soul,  he  was  still  son 
of  Abraham,  loving  Adonai  mightily  and  over-fearful  lest  he  should 
yet  give  in  unto  certain  things.  Also,  he  still  dreaded  Caesar.  He, 
therefore,  lifting  his  arms  to  a  level  with  his  shoulders,  and  gazing 
across  the  peoples,  cried  aloud — 

“No,  by  God!  Jesus  was  a  great  philosopher,  but,  to  worship 
Him — that  I  consider  idolatry.” 

He  looked  out  once  again  over  all  the  Peoples,  and  in  another  di¬ 
rection,  and  again  shouted:  “No,  by  God!  Jesus  was  a  great  philoso¬ 
pher,  but,  to  worship  Him — that  I  consider  idolatry.” 

And  he  looked  yet  once  again  across  the  earnest  faces,  and  would 
again  have  shouted  as  before,  but  that  he  beheld,  at  only  a  little  dis¬ 
tance — Christopherus,  whose  eyes  were  full  of  shining  tears  for  him, 
even  Simon  of  Cyrene.  Then  Christopherus  lowered  his  head,  and, 
wrapping  it  up  in  his  mantle,  wept  sore.  Even  as  on  that  day  when 
he  and  Simon  had  parted  at  the  foot  of  the  cross,  so  wept  he  again 
now. 

And,  when  the  Jew  beheld  his  friend,  that  he  was  as  he  had  seen 
him  on  that  last  occasion,  when  both  they  twain  had  come  forth  out 
of  the  Mines  of  Wretchedness,  and  then  afterwards  had  hotly  parted, 


412 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


behold !  the  body  of  Simon  of  Cyrene,  which  had  standen  as  a  mighty 
rock,  was  shaken  by  ague. 

And  a  strange  impulse  ran  again  before  his  will,  so  that  he  once 
more  shouted  all  at  once,  as  if  still  another  time  the  spirit  of  the  Lord 
had  taken  hold  upon  him,  so  that  the  people  w7ho  stood  in  Caesar’s  hall 
of  judgment  were  terrified  utterly:  “No,  by  the  Ancient  of  Days! 
He  was  neither  impostor,  nor  mere  philosopher,  but  Shiloh,  the 
Christ,  the  Messiah,  the  Son  of  the  living  God!” 

Had  it  been  his  last  word,  he  had  pronounced  it. 

And  when  he  had  thus  spoken,  he  groaned  as  he  were  indeed  in 
mortal  agony,  and  fell  straight  down  at  the  foot  of  the  column  where¬ 
by  he  had  standen. 

And  he  leaped  right  up  again,  and  parting  the  many  people  that 
ranked  and  filed  before  him,  even  as  a  husbandman  parteth  a  field  of 
standing  wheat,  he  rushed  forth  out  of  the  judgment  hall,  crying  : 
‘  ‘  What  is  this  that  I  have  done  ?  Oh  what  is  this  that  I  have  done  ?  ’  ’ 

And  no  one  durst  oppose  him.  Even  until  he  had  reached  his  own 
house,  he  was  not  opposed. 

He  rushed  straight  in,  though  Conatus  would  have  stopped  him 
but  could  not. 

And  when  Conatus  followed  after,  and  found  him  in  his  zotheca, 
behold!  his  Master  knew  him  not,  but  was  like  to  a  stranger  pacing 
the  familiar  room. 

And  Conatus  saw  and  heard  the  Master  crying,  “Eternal  Justice 
blast  you  forever,  0  ye  wicked!  Perish  the  wolf -breed  of  the  world, 
and  only  the  sweet  children  of  Abraham —  When?  Who  is  this? 
Have  I  not  seen  thee?  Justice — Justice  himself!  Eight  glad  am  I 
to  meet  thee,  thou  clad  in  crimson.  No  soberer — There  is  blood  upon 
thy  hand,  sirrah,  hell  in  thine  insane  eye,  death  and  eternal  dam¬ 
nation —  ’  ’ 

“Master!  0  Master!” 

“Out,  ass!  Damnation!  Death!  Thou  art  Caesar!  Eternal 
crosses ! ’ ’ 

4  ‘  Master !  Alas !  ’  ’ 

“I  fain  would  have  Justice!  Who  is  there?  Why,  there  is  Jus¬ 
tice.  Oh  there  he  is.  No,  yonder.  Yet,  once  again,  he  is  here.  Who 
art —  Why  thou  art  Simon,  Simon  of  Cyrene,  he  that  bore  the  cross 
for  Christ.  Come  hither,  Simon.  Sit  thou  upon  that,  sirrah. 

“Sirrah,  I  myself  am  Justice,  and  I  will  hold  court  this  day.  Poor 
injured  Simon!” 

“Why  dost  thou  weep,  Master?  And  why  dost  thou  know  me 
not  ?  ’  ’ 


A  PROMINENT  MAN 


413 


‘ ‘Alas,  sirrah,  I  will  do  thee  justice,  though  the  world  burst  all 
asunder — which,  belike  it  will  when  Simon  of  Cyrene  shall  have  jus¬ 
tice. — Quick!  It  is  my  head  that  bursts!  Christopherus !  Lampa- 
dephorus !  Adonai ! 

“I  thank  thee.  I  thank  thee  that  thou  sawest  the  thing  needful. 
The  throat — it  is  still  too  tight.  Sell  caravans  in  Persia.  Put  camels 
in  Cyrenaica,  instead  of  horses!  I  am  Caesar.  Simon — once  again — ■ 
I — I  try  thy  case —  A  sign !  A  sign,  0  Lord  God !  A  sign  from — 
Sit  there.  Now  come  all  the  world  with  lies  against  thee,  who  art — a 
Jew.  Art  thou  not  the  husband  of  Amahnah?  Deny  it  not.  Fires, 
racks  for  the  flesh !  Adonai !  Multitudes !  The  world !  My  thoughts 
seem  living  things  with  blood  in  them!  Blood!  Saved  by  blood! 
Who  hindereth  Justice?  One  on  a  cross?  Who  beareth  the  cross? 
Christ —  No,  Simon —  No,  it  is  the  living  Christ.  A  world  of 
blood!  Gentiles!  Jews!  Justice!  Blood  and  justice!  Saved! 
Lost!  How  carriest —  No,  no,  no,  no,  no. — Give  me  an  axe.  Now 
follow  me,  thou  Simon  of  Cyrene,  and  see  what  Justice  doth.” 

He  went  raging,  therefore,  through  his  own  house,  knowing  it  not, 
about  all  the  courts  thereof,  and  brake  his  images,  every  one,  but  cry¬ 
ing,  at  length:  “The  Christ,  the  Christ!  Where  is  the  image  of 
Christ?  Is  there  no  image  here  of  Jesus?  What  is  the  idolatry  of 
idolatries  ?  I  will  break  that  idol  yet,  and  in  the  sight  of  all  men.  ’  ’ 

He  ran  out  into  the  vice  and  the  Forum,  so  to  the  Basilica  Julia, 
wherein  he  had  that  day  been  tried. 

Mounting  the  place  whereon  he  had  aforetime  stood,  he  shouted 
with  all  his  might:  “It  is  I,  even  Simon  of  Cyrene,  Jew  of  Jews  and 
son  of  Abraham  among  sons  of  Abraham.  By  the  Eternal  of  Eter¬ 
nals,  and  the  God  of  all  the  gods,  I  did  surely  lie  upon  my  trial  in  this 
court  this  day.  For  Jesus  is  not  the  Christ,  the  Son  of  the  living 
God,  but  a  mamzer  and  a  loathing,  and  a  stench  in  the  nostrils  of 
righteousness  forever.  ’  ’ 

He  leaped  down  out  of  the  place,  wild,  and  crying  again  and  yet 
again,  even  until  he  had  reached  his  own  domus :  ‘  ‘  What  is  this  that 
I  have  done  ?  Oh !  what  is  this  that  I  have  done  ? 7  7 

But  few  there  were  that  had  stood  at  the  time  within  the  great 
basilica,  for  the  Justitium,  or  legal  holiday  because  of  the  Saturnalia, 
had  set  in.  And  these,  because  of  the  echoes  which  there  were  all 
round  about  among  the  gods  in  the  hollow  hall  heard  not,  but  said, 
the  one  unto  another:  “Hast  thou  distinguished  the  man’s  words? 
What  was  that  which  the  Jew  would  say?” 


414 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


CHAPTER  XL VIII 
In  Peril  of  Great  Changes 

Now,  when  Simon ’s  trial  was  still  fresh  in  the  mind  of  him  called 
Sarcogenes,  that  monster  sate  in  a  little  wine-house  of  the  city,  a  den 
disreputable.  For  so  it  suited  this  great,  vile  man  to  do.  In  such 
places  he  could  hear  about  the  conduct  of  the  world  as  never  a  soul 
might  learn  of  it  in  the  courts  of  Caesar.  Furthermore,  there  was 
always  a  chance  in  such  twilit  spots,  to  put  poison,  here  into  one  un¬ 
suspecting  ear,  there  into  another,  which  chances,  elsewhere,  he  might 
not  have  had. 

And  Sarcogenes  drank  and  drank  again. 

For  he  had  come,  in  that  hour,  from  the  palace  of  Caesar,  wherein 
he  had  had  conferences  with  the  Lord  of  the  World  concerning  the 
future  worship  which  was  to  be  accorded  by  the  peoples  to  Caesar’s 
divinity.  At  this  conference,  the  man  Ophidion  (for  so  now  even  he 
himself  thought)  had  behaved  badly.  He  had  forgotten  to  flatter 
Caesar,  as  the  Ape  of  the  Devil  would  have  had  himself  to  be  flattered. 
This,  the  man  that  was  born  of  the  flesh  told  his  own  self  plainly, 
was  the  direct  consequence  of  the  effect  which  Simon  of  Cyrene’s 
speaking  out  upon  the  trial — speaking  out,  that  is,  both  as  about 
Jehovah  and  also  as  about  Christ — had  had  upon  even  him,  Sarco¬ 
genes,  which  was  truly  Ophidion,  the  lesser  snake.  Caesar  had  said, 
“Thou,  Sarcogenes,  I  consider  as  my  friend.  (Art  thou  not  the 
master  of  the  revels  here?)  Well,  as  friend  and  companion  of  thy 
Prince,  thou  art  now  confronted  with  this  question,  Whether  thy 
Prince,  even  I,  Caesar,  had  better  order  and  declare  that,  hereafter, 
all  the  sacrifices  of  all  the  world  shall  be  made  unto  me,  Caesar,  and 
in  my  name,  and  whether  all  the  temples  of  all  the  world,  save  mine 
own  only,  should  be  abolished — or,  at  the  very  lightest,  closed  and 
again  opened,  but  only  in  the  name  of  Caesar.” 

And  Sarcogenes,  because  of  the  words  of  Simon  of  Cyrene,  which 
still  were  sounding  in  his  astonished  ears,  trembled  and  was  afraid 
to  say  to  Caesar  that  which  the  Lord  of  All  this  World  desired  to  hear. 
He  advised  therefore,  instead:  “Nay,  Caesar;  I  would  not  do  this.” 

Then  had  Caesar’s  gorge  risen,  and  his  lips  cursed  the  curse  that 
was  in  his  heart. 

But  Ophidion  (finished  courtier  that  he  was)  corrected  himself, 
saying  unto  Caesar :  ‘  ‘  Thou  didst  not  let  me  say  my  say  out.  I  meant 
to  have  added  that  it  were  better  to  teach  the  peoples  that  all  the 
other  gods  than  thou  are  merely  thine  attributes.  For,  first  of  all, 


A  PROMINENT  MAN 


415 


this  is  literally  true.  And,  second,  the  peoples  will  not  then  be  of¬ 
fended  (as  otherwise  they  must  of  a  certainty  be)  by  the  abolition  of 
all  their  aforetime  gods,  to  whom  indeed  they  are  greatly  attached. 
Thirdly,  they  will,  in  that  gradual  wise,  come  without  any  offense, 
and  without  any  insurrection,  to  look  upon  thee  as  the  one  god  only. 
Then,  later,  thou  canst,  if  thou  wilt,  and  devoid  of  any  trouble,  abolish 
all  other  gods  but  thyself  only/ 1 

And  Caesar  was  merely  pleased  in  part — greatly  to  Ophidion’s 
marvelling,  for  he  had  not  perceived  that,  of  late,  Caesar  had  grown 
more  and  more  jealous  of  his  godhead. 

And  Caesar  had  thundered,  “Wast  thou,  fool,  in  any  wise  affected 
by  the  outspeaking  of  the  Jew?” 

Sarcogenes  sware  that  not  in  any  wise  had  he  been  touched  or 
shapen  thereby.  Yet  verily,  as  he  said  the  words,  he  shuddered.  This 
was  seen  of  Caesar,  whose  eyes  became  narrow  with  hate. 

Then  had  Caesar  dismissed  Sarcogenes,  who  had  forthwith  come 
down  to  this  dim  wine-shop. 

Therefore,  as  he  pondered,  he  drank,  and  drank  yet  again.  For 
he  wished  to  forget  the  mistakes  he  had  just  made  with  Caesar,  yet 
still  more  the  words  which  were  ringing,  each  hour  the  more  strongly, 
in  his  ears,  and  which  Simon  had  spoken  in  the  Court  of  Caesar  before 
him,  Ophidion,  and  before  Caesar  himself,  and  before  all  the  gods  and 
the  priests  and  the  nations  of  the  world. 

In  such  manner  he  became  foolish,  and  talked  of  flies.  But  re¬ 
membering  who  he  was,  and  that,  if  he  became  too  talkative,  he 
might,  on  a  day,  be  obliged  to  explain  unto  Caesar,  he  arose,  and 
cursed,  and  paid  his  reckoning,  and  left  the  caupona. 

The  shadows  of  the  city  were  lengthening  over  the  seven  hills. 
He  said,  “I,  like  Simon  of  Cyrene,  am  very  lonely :  I  am  truly  a  lonely 
man.”  Yet,  as  he  entered  his  own  house,  he  went  not  out  among  the 
servants,  but  into  a  secret  chamber,  where,  being  all  by  himself,  he 
felt  not  quite  so  solitary  as  he  would  have  done  among  his  own  ser¬ 
vants. 

And  having  arrived  here,  he  cried  in  a  sudden  agony :  1 1  Oh  God ! 
Oh  God !  How  cruel  even  to  the  sinner  is  a  life  of  sin !  I  believe  in 
thee,  0  Jesus,  and  I  tremble.  Pity  thou  me.”  He  paced  the  secret 
apartment  for  a  little  while,  with  hand  over  heart,  whispering:  “ Cour¬ 
age,  courage!  It  will  all  soon  be  over,  and  thou  shalt  be  thyself 
again.”  Then  he  apostrophized,  “Ah,  Simon  of  Cyrene,  hadst  thou 
not  been  a  crypto- Jew,  hadst  not  pretended  to  be  a  worshipper  of 
Caesar  and  of  gods  lesser  than  he,  then  mightest  thou  surely  have 
known  again  thy  true  wife,  Berith.  Or  even —  But  thou  hast  had 


416 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


thy  choice. — Jehovah!  Thou  who  livest  out  of  space,  and  whose  acts 
are  wholly  exempt  from  time  and  from  time’s  tolls  and  secret  re¬ 
venges,  behold  there  are  other  wills  than  thine.  There  is  the  Jew’s. 
There  is  mine  also.” 

He  had  just  opened  the  false  bottom  of  the  box  in  which  he  kept  his 
copy  of  the  Scriptures,  including  the  letters  of  Paul  and  of  James, 
and  others  that  had  been  written  with  a  sacred  pen.  But  there  was 
also  in  the  box  ‘‘The  Book  of  The  Beast,”  in  very  many  volumes, 
which  had  been  sent  unto  him  by  Levitas,  of  Gaul,  and  which  had  been 
written  by  Porneius  and  Porneia,  as  wTell  as  by  a  far  worser  prostitute, 
Infidelitas.  He  took  out  certain  of  the  sacred  rolls  (and  not  the 
others  on  this  day)  and  kissed  them,  and  started  to  read.  But  then 
he  cast  the  parchments  to  the  floor  and  trampled  them.  “What! 
Shall  I  throw  myself  upon  mercy,  though  that  of  the  Eternal  ?  Shall 
I  confess  my  sins?  Where  is  my  pride?  Help  thou  me,  Satanas.  I 
pray  unto  thee.  And  curse  thou  all  these  scriptures,  and  all  men 
which  had  to  do  with  them,  in  especial  Simon  of  Cyrene.” 

Yet,  in  that  very  moment  wherein  he  cursed,  had  it  happened 
that  Simon  of  Cyrene  came  unto  him,  or  the  bearer  of  Christian  light, 
Christopherus,  he,  even  Sarcogenes,  who  was  also  Ophidion,  might 
have  confessed  his  sins,  passing  over  unto  ^Righteousness. 

But  so  it  was  not  ordained  to  be. 

And  Ophidion  had  heard  the  truth,  ere  now,  times  innumerable 
out  of  the  mouths  of  babes  and  of  sucklings  and  of  men  that  were 
very  wise.  Yea,  from  his  own  poor  servants,  out  of  their  mouths  also 
had  he  often  heard  the  truth.  And  yet  he  accepted  not  J esus. 

But  now,  the  rather,  cursed  he  Simon  of  Cyrene.  He  said,  “I  will 
get  thee,  O  thou  Simon ;  for  I  see  a  way.  I  perceive  what  it  is  that 
hath  come  across  the  mind  of  Caesar.  I  will  make  thee  a  Christian, 
if  I  can.  In  any  case,  Caesar  shall  be  jealous,  yet  more  jealous,  of  his 
godhead,  as  concerneth  thee,  and  shall  hate  thee  more  for  that  than  he 
shall  love  thee  for  thine  inexhaustible  wealth.  Let  me  see.  The  best 
of  mine  agents —  Who  shall  poppy  thee,  0  Jew,  into  sweet  rest  any 
more,  until  that  thou  art  stricken  by  death,  either  in  the  Mines  of  the 
Wretched,  or  else  on  a  cross?  And  the  slower  the  way,  the  better.” 

He  beat  upon  a  gong,  whereat  two  servants  (which  knew  about  this 
chamber,  and  waited  upon  it)  came.  Sarcogenes  said,  “The  Jew 
woman,  0  Marcion  and  Apelles.”  The  woman  was  brought  by  the 
mastigophorus. 

Said  the  Man  of  Sin,  “Beat  her.” 

The  woman  looked  unto  him,  crying:  “Have  pity  on  me,  since  I 
tremble.  ’  ’ 


A  PROMINENT  MAN 


417 


“Pity!”  shouted  he,  vomiting  language  which  seemed  to  have 
come  from  the  refuse  of  all  the  tongues  of  earth,  “I  will  have  thee 
flayed  alive,  an  if  thou  once  callest  for  pity  again.” 

The  mastigophorus  beat  her  with  many  stripes,  so  that  she  fell,  at 
length,  fainting. 

Whereat  Sarcogenes  said,  “Yet  another  hour  for  her  of  work  each 
day.  And  may  all  the  curses  of  Hades  rest  upon  thee,  0  thou  detest¬ 
able  Amahnah.” 

. And  Simon,  when  he  had  come  back  from  his  loud  (but 

futile)  rejection  of  the  Christ  before  the  whole  Basilica,  had  had 
music  and  slept. 

He  awoke,  and  said  unto  Conatus:  “Did  I  leave  this  place  and 
go  back  unto  the  Basilica,  or  did  I  but  sleep  ?  ’  ’ 

Conatus  said,  “Master!  Master!” 

Simon  slept  again,  and  again  awoke.  He  said  to  Conatus,  “I 
dreamed  that  I  awoke  and  spake  with  thee  a  little  while  ago,  but  I 
only  dreamed.  Now  I  know  that  I  wake.  And  happy  times  await  me 
surely,  for  I  also  dreamed  of  Berith.  Then  he  remembered  the  part 
which  he  had  played  in  the  Basilica,  his  brow  was  sore  troubled. 

“Why,”  asked  he,  “Conatus,  art  thou  ever  a  man  of  so  great 
peace?  When  all  the  world  is  on  my  shoulders  (or  so  it  seemeth,  and 
I  am  not  Atlas  either)  why  hast  thou  only  peace?” 

“I,  Master!” 

‘  ‘  Thou.  Tell  me  thy  secret.  I  see  thee  ever  with  an  infinite  exal¬ 
tation  in  thine  eye!”  Then,  as  Simon  looked  upon  his  servant  and 
true  friend,  he  believed  yet  again  that  he  beheld  in  the  eyes  of  the 
humble  Conatus,  the  sweetly  solemn  look  of  Christ,  and  he  rose 
quickly,  and  said :  1 1  Away !  ’ ’ 

i  ‘  Master !  ’ ’ 

4  4  Away !  Get  hence !  ’  ’ 

But  he  quickly  got  thence  himself,  and,  passing  out  among  the 
courts,  made  haste  to  that  loneliest  place  of  all,  the  place  of  the  ever¬ 
greens,  the  viridarium.  For  behold  he  was  lonely,  and  in  the  midst 
of  solitude  and  silence,  was  less  of  a  hermit  than  among  his  own  peo¬ 
ples. 

He  went,  therefore,  in  among  the  cypresses,  and  sate  in  the  cold 
white  seat  which  there  was  in  the  midst  of  the  darkness,  there  beside 
his  unsunned  sun-dial. 

He  knelt  and  prayed.  But  whether  to  the  Father  alone,  the  man 
himself  knew  not.  Yet  he  prayed,  and  rose  again,  and  sate  melan¬ 
choly  in  the  seat,  and  said  aloud  to  his  soul:  “As  the  sparks  fly 

27 


418 


SIMON  OF  GYRENE 


upward !  And  rather  had  I  upon  me  even  now  the  gray  garments  of 
my  simple  shepherdhood  than  all  these.” 

He  thought  of  everything  which  had  been  said  and  done  at  the 
trial,  whereat  he  had  been  tried  of  so  many  crimes  before  Csesar. 
Once  again  he  beheld  the  vast  Basilica,  seeming  to  stand  out  great  yet 
also  trivial  before  him,  devoid  of  space  and  time,  with  its  multitude 
of  priests  and  philosophers,  its  gods  of  marble  and  of  bronze,  yea  and 
all  the  peoples  of  the  mighty  world,  and  Demos  and  Vulgus  and  Mo- 
bilis  and  Defectus,  and  that  Grand  Accuser,  Ophidion,  and  Caesar 
himself  with  Philautia  by  his  side.  How  he  had  thought  to  place  a 
seal  of  closeness  over  his  lips  that  day.  Yet  how  he  had  spoken  like 
a  brazen  trumpet  to  the  world.  “ Jehovah!  Jesus!”  Was  there  any 
that  had  not  heard?  And  of  what  avail  his  impassioned  rejection 
afterward  ? 

“Why  was  it  that  I  so  spake,  and  did  ruin  me?  Might  they  not — 
these  Gentiles,  these  idolaters — have  seen,  if  see  they  would,  the  walls 
of  our  synagogues?  Might  they  not  have  entered  into  them  whenas 
they  wished,  and  have  become  our  proselytes  at  will?  But  thou 
wouldst  speak,  0  vain  tongue,  thou  wouldst  speak!  And  thou  hast 
spoiled  everything.  Even  as  I  did  have  the  very  heart  of  Csesar  in  my 
fingers,  thou  spakest  up  and  didst  ruin  me. 

“Or,  0  Lord  God,  usedst  thou  me?  Or  was  it  only  in  my  heart 
already  that  I  should  say  those  things,  and  yet  I  knew  it  not  ?  ’  ’  Like 
a  lighted  lamp  in  a  cavern,  this  idea  began  to  illumine  in  his  mind 
various  hitherto  unsuspected  recesses  and  (as  he  supposed)  danger¬ 
ous  pits  of  belief.  “Methought  I  had  been  a  crypto- Jew,  yet  was  I 
not  conversant — ”  There  was  an  eternal  conflict  somehow  between 
himself  and  (so  he  believed)  his  surroundings,  which  was  the  world. 

The  winged  seeds  were  being  blown  about  by  the  restless  wind, 
and  one  of  these,  chance-borne  (or  so  it  appeared  to  Simon)  came 
finally  within  the  circle  of  the  cypresses,  and  so  to  rest  in  the  half- 
closed  palm  of  the  Jew.  Simon  held  it  idly,  turning  it  now  and 
again  with  uncomprehending  fingers.  And  did  see  the  seed  not,  for 
his  pore-blind  eyes  were  fixed  on  nothing. 

What  thought  Caesar  now  of  his  speaking  out  ?  What,  in  especial, 
thought  Philautia  and  what  the  world  ?  He  pondered  deeply.  Then, 
What  thought  his  own  people  of  these  matters?  What  the  Chris¬ 
tians?  The  more  he  pondered,  the  more  inextricably  perplexed  he 
became.  He  began,  also,  to  see  himself,  through  a  long  succession  of 
grievous  days,  more  and  more  perplexed  continually.  Would  death 
end  all  before —  Death! 


A  PROMINENT  MAN 


419 


There  was  in  this  man  still  the  typical  Jew’s  keen  joy  in  life, 
and,  with  the  thought  of  death,  he  felt  chill  waves  in  his  hot  veins. 

Death ! 

He  appeared  to  be  swimming  in  a  vast,  an  infinite,  sea  of  melan¬ 
choly.  He  knew  from  what  he  had  heard — 

He  arose  and  looked  about  the  cypresses,  then  at  the  space  behind 
the  seat  on  which  he  had  been  sitting,  as  if  he  had  expected  to  find 
there  the  hollow-hooded  Thanatos  himself,  with  bent  form  and  ready 
knife. 

Death ! 

Then  he  cried,  “0  Adonai,  Adonai,  ’tis  I  that  worship  thee  in 
truth.  Wilt  thou  not  hearken  unto  me?  Was  it  not  for  my  love  of 
thee  and  for  my  toughness  and  my  strength  that  thou  didst  choose 
me  out  of  many?  Yet  knowest  thou  not  that  I  am  but  a  man?  Is  my 
flesh  of  brass,  or  my  bones  of  iron  that  they  never  can  be  broke?  Yet 
hast  thou  given  me  burdens  of  hardness —  See  this  triliterate  brand 
upon  me!  0  Adonai!  Didst  thou  give  unto  me  only  a  covenant  of 
wretchedness  ? 

“I  am  but  a  bit  of  dreaming  dust.  Hast  thou  not  with  me  also  a 
covenant  of  peace?  Why  should  the  burden  of  thy  tragic  priest¬ 
hood  be  ever  upon  my  shoulders  alone?  Are  there  not  other  men? 
Choose  them,  therefore,  that  they  may  also  bear  a  little.  For  lo,  I 
shall  go  down  into  Hades  if  I  be  not  very  soon  at  rest.” 

Best  ?  Death ! 

Somehow,  *  ‘  Death,  ’  ’  kept  coming  up  in  his  mind  continually,  and 
he  thought  long  about  this  thing  men  call  death,  or  dissolution,  yet 
always  in  connection,  too,  with  God.  And  what  was  God  ?  He  began 
to  review  the  opinions  he  had  long  since  formed,  but,  also  long  since, 
had  well-nigh  forgotten,  concerning  the  nature  and  essence  of  God. 
How  very  differently,  now,  he  conceived  of  that  essence !  What  was 
the  cause  of  the  change  ?  He  searched  far  down  in  his  consciousness, 
but  could  not  find  the  reason. 

‘  1  God,  ’  ’  he  thought,  is  a  being  absolutely  infinite,  something  which 
lieth  beneath  the  appearances  of  things,  in  fact  the  only  being  which 
lieth  beneath  the  appearance  of  things.  And  a  portion  of  this  under¬ 
lying  essence  is  constituted  by  the  minds  and  souls  of  men.  All  else 
than  the  Infinite  Being  are  merely  appearances. 

“God  has  attributes  of  which  we  know  but  two — thought  and  ex¬ 
tension.  God  understandeth  himself  and  loveth  himself,  and  there¬ 
fore  our  spirits,  which  are  portions  of  the  divine  substance,  love  God 
and  are  loved  by  Him.”  After  a  dreary  silence,  he  added:  “And  we 


420 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


love  one  another — we  should  love  one  another — even  our  enemies.” 
Here  he  paused  and  pondered  long  and  deeply. 

“God,  however,  hath  no  will  in  man’s  (the  temporal)  sense.  He 
seeth  all  things  perfect  and  changeless  and  wholly  co-existent,  hence 
also  can  He  have  no  future  purposes. 

‘  ‘  But,  in  time — the  minds  that  exist  in  time — these  minds  are  sub- 
ject  necessarily  to  evil — for  that  they  have  temporal  wills  for  the 
forming  of  future  purposes,  which  must  often  fail  of  completion, 
hence  sin. 

“But  why  should  God  make  man,  at  first,  a  temporal  creature? 
Why  did  he  make  space  ?  First  of  all,  Why  time  ?  What  can  justify 
the  creation  of  that  thing  which  seemeth  to  set  the  spirit  of  man 
(which  is  temporal)  apart  from  that  of  God  (which  is  eternal)  ?” 

Some  dim  conception  of  the  wish  of  the  Lord  to  present  Himself 
in  certain  loving  relations  to  His  own  temporal  manifestations  began 
to  take  vague  shape  in  his  staggering  imagination. 

“How  could  the  highest  love  come  into  existence?  In  what  way? 
In  what  way  ?  ’  ’ 

He  recalled  again,  as  on  the  darkening  hour  of  the  crucifixion,  and 
on  each  of  the  specially  sorrowful  days  whenafter  he  had  met  that 
bearer  of  the  secular  light,  even  Lampadephorus,  the  teaching  of 
Anaxagoras,  which  saith  that  many  of  the  stars  are  worlds  quite  like 
our  own,  and  that  they  may  perchance  be  inhabited  by  people  of  like 
passions  with  ourselves.  In  such  a  case  would  not  Adonai  be  obliged, 
would  He  not  even  wish —  Stepping  from  star  to  star,  throughout 
the  ages,  from  crucifixion  unto  crucifixion,  He — 

Would  not  this  explain  the  mystery  of  space  and  time,  the  multi¬ 
tude  of  planets  and  the  lamps  of  heaven  which  shine  upon  them — a 
mystery  which  had  been  so  baffling  unto  children  and  philosophers? 

He  began  to  feel  that  he  had  wandered  far  from  the  teachings  of 
Parush,  had  added  very  much  even  to  the  teachings  of  Moses.  And 
he  would  have  tried  to  prove  the  questions  more,  but  that,  from  a  re¬ 
gion  just  beyond  his  own  outermost  wall,  a  strange  complaining  sound 
arose  again,  clearly  of  mechanical  origin,  and  yet,  in  a  way,  bearing 
a  poignant  resemblance  to  the  heart-broken  cry  which  he  himself 
would  have  uttered  an  if  he  could — the  cry  of  a  person  whose  bur¬ 
den  was  almost  greater  than  could  be  borne.  Opliidion — it  came  from 
the  house  of  Opliidion,  one  of  that  basest  creature’s  outlying  courts. 
And,  after  all,  was  he  himself  any  better  than  a  treadmill  servant  of 
Ophidion?  Was  he  not,  at  Opliidion ’s  behest,  merely  working  a  drear 
treadmill  unto  Cassar?  Only,  the  mill  which  he,  Simon,  treaded,  had 
golden  steps  instead  of  wood.  And,  worn  out,  at  the  end — the  mines, 


A  PROMINENT  MAN 


421 


the  cross!  Oh  God!  Oh  Adonai!  Why  should  son  of  Abraham  be 
servant  to  Ophidion?  But — was  not  Ophidion  a  servant  unto  the 
Lord?  Yea,  though  he,  Ophidion,  knew  it  not.  The  man  of  the  cross 
suffered  himself  to  think  upon  this  thing  no  further,  but,  with  a 
proud  despair,  began  to  recall  (as  often  he  had  done  before  in  this 
very  viridarium)  all  the  skeptical  philosophers  (and  that  was  a  many) 
whose  works  he  had  aforetime  read,  as,  for  example,  Lucretius,  iEne- 
sidemus,  etc.  Then  he  said,  “I  am  a  fool  that  I  believe  on  anything 
whatever.  Yea,  I  will  not  believe,  and  I  do  not.  Two  things  exist, 
they  two  alone — Csesar  and  I.  And  I  must  escape  from  Csesar.  So 
much  is  plain,  no  more. 

1 1  Why !  Now  I  do  begin  to  breathe  easily  again.  So  fearful  had 
I  become  that  I  had  fallen  into  an  idolatrous  anti-idolatry.  Shall  I 
make  of  my  fear  of  thee,  0  Christ,  an  idol  the  which  I  shall  worship  ? 
Have  I  not  been  doing  this  very  thing?  So  foolish  had  I  become! 
and,  at  bottom,  truly  for  this,  that  I  had  believed  on  God,  and  had 
thought  that  a  man  might  know  the  things  that  are  to  be  hereafter. 
But  man  lmoweth  nothing,  even  of  the  things  of  now. 

‘  ‘  This  is  the  simple  truth.  Therefore  will  I  believe  it  utterly,  and 
the  truth  shall  make  me  free.” 

Now,  deep  in  the  heart  of  the  Jew  (as  in  the  heart  of  every  nor¬ 
mal  man,  but  not  so  strong  and  abiding)  was  a  wish  to  see  God,  to  be¬ 
hold  Him  even  as  a  brother,  whom  one  might,  indeed,  take  by  the 
hand  and  kiss.  4 ‘Oh  that  One  might  come  with  supernatural  tender¬ 
ness  and  with  supernatural  power,  even  as  Socrates  and  Plato  did 
predict  must  be !  ”  At  the  bottom  of  his  soul,  it  was  this  feeling 
(righteous  enough  in  itself)  which,  by  a  strange  and  yet  most  natural 
excess,  had  made  of  Simon,  both  in  Egypt  and  in  Petra,  also  in  the 
Land  of  Canaan,  an  idolater  veritable.  This,  too,  by  a  strange  re¬ 
versal,  or  inversion,  of  thought,  had  made  of  the  man  an  idolater  also 
since  his  coming  into  Rome,  and  for  this,  that  (as  he  himself  had 
plainly  seen)  it  had  caused  a  fear  of  his  own  possible  reception  of 
Jesus,  until,  in  his  heart,  he  worshipped  not  the  very  Lord,  but  that 
fear  itself  and  that  hatred  of  Christ.  And  now,  as  his  love  of  Adonai 
and  wish  to  see  Him  in  the  flesh  was  tapping  at  his  heart’s  door,  he 
closed  down  even  the  window,  shutting  and  fastening  it,  and  making 
an  absolute  darkness  therein,  and  saying  to  himself :  ‘  ‘  There  is  noth¬ 
ing  at  all  that  can  be  without,  therefore  none  knocketh.”  So  again 
he  hath  an  idol,  this  Simon  of  Cyrene,  the  idol  called  Atheism.  Poor 
Simon  of  Cyrene ! — Simon  which  loveth  the  Lord  better  than  doth 
any  other  man  alive.  Incurable  idolater  also  he,  and  solely  for  this 
strange  reason,  that  so  very  much  he  doth  love  God. 


422 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


And  Simon  indeed  suffered. 

Not  without  suffering  could  Simon  of  Cyrene  have  said  to  him¬ 
self,  “ There  is  no  God.” 

After  a  little,  he  found  (and  was  greatly  surprised)  that  he  had 
not  quieted  the  great  question  in  the  least,  but  was  wondering  about  it 
again,  and  tossing  it  like  a  madman’s  ball,  to  and  fro,  in  his  mind. 

There  came  to  him  the  recollection  of  what  the  Chazzan,  what  the 
Archisynagogus,  what  Jeezer  and  Morah  and  Jehovah-Jireh  had  said 
unto  him  as  about  Jesus.  With  a  pang,  he  suddenly  cast  these  things 
all  out  from  his  heart,  crying  again : 4  ‘  I  have  said  I  would  not  so  much 
as  believe  upon  Jehovah.  Why,  then,  ponder,  or  anywise  recall,  the 
prophecies  about  His  Son?” 

So  he  put  the  whole  question  by,  saying:  “I  will  see  to  this  at 
my  greater  leisure,  for  unto  some  certain  conclusion  must  I  arrive.” 
But  all  at  once  he  found  that  he  was  reflecting  again  upon  Christian¬ 
ity.  And  after  a  time,  his  imagination  stopped  once  more. 

There  was  a  strange,  uncertain  region  (as  he  saw)  which  it  could 
not  cross,  being  under,  as  it  seemed,  a  heavy  compulsion  and  re¬ 
straint.  Sometimes  again,  he  believed  that  he  could  cross  that  region 
— but  only  with  superhuman  aid. 

And  a  sudden  homesickness,  a  sickness  for  the  Land  of  his  Fath¬ 
ers,  of  Canaan,  descended  upon  him  like  a  leaden  cloud.  “Were  I 
only  in  Canaan,”  thought  he,  “the  troubles  and  the  trials  of  my  life 
would  surely  and  forever  cease.” 

But  he  swept  this  thought,  also,  aside,  saying :  1 1  Two  things  exist 
alone — Caesar  and  I.  And  I  must  make  peace  with  Caesar.”  So  that 
now,  in  his  soul,  which  was  verging  unto  dissolution  (but  he  knew 
that  not)  from  his  body,  and  which,  as  it  were,  should  have  been 
transformed  into  a  very  temple  prepared  for  Adonai,  there  grew  Up 
merely  thoughts  and  plans  for  that  body’s  safety  and  fleshly  success. 

But  again  he  began,  spite  of  himself,  to  think  of  God,  and  of  God 
in  connection  with  him,  Simon.  He  reviewed  his  whole  life,  calling 
up  before  him  Leah,  which  is  also  Berith,  likewise  Temunah  of  the 
South,  and  Email  the  Egyptian,  and  Gillul,  the  Petran,  and  Abad- 
done  and  her  brother  Shikkuts,  and  Superbus  and  Superbia,  and  all 
the  others  of  the  seven  strange  peoples  that  were  dead  and  dust  (he 
thought)  these  very  many  years.  Then  he  became  aware  again  that 
a  nightingale  was  calling  to  its  mate  outside  the  grove,  a  little  later 
that  the  treadmill  in  the  near-by  court  was  creaking  still,  creaking 
and  creaking  steadfastly.  He  straightened  slowly  up,  and  stood  upon 
his  feet,  for  he  found  that  he  himself  had  gotten  into  the  bent,  tread- 


A  PROMINENT  MAN 


423 


mill  attitude.  1 1  Small  wonder,  ’  ’  quoth  he.  He  raised  his  arms,  in  the 
fashion  of  a  giant  cross. 

In  this  strange  posture  he  stood,  devoid  of  motion,  for  a  long  time, 
looking  like  some  one  that  posed  and  passed  from  dream  unto  idler 
dream,  but,  in  reality,  his  was  a  wounded  soul  naked,  out  of  space 
and  time,  battling  against  Jesus. 

He  let  fall  his  arms,  and  passed  back  into  the  world  again,  coming 
outside  the  circle  of  the  cypresses.  Then  he  paced  the  walks  of  the 
lonely  court,  marching  restlessly  from  closed  door  to  closed  door  and 
from  closed  door  back  unto  closed  door  again,  till,  in  his  teeming 
brain,  he  had  formed  highly  thought  out  plans — plans,  that  is  to  say, 
both  as  concerning  great  changes  for  himself  and  his  familia  and  also 
as  concerning  Ophidion, 


CHAPTER  XLIX 
And  It  Came  to  Pass 

Conatus,  meanwhile,  threaded  the  many  courts  sombrely,  seeing 
to  it  that  all  went  well  in  the  house  of  him  that  had  borne,  and  still 
bore,  the  cross.  Then,  once  more  in  the  atrium,  he  heard  his  Master’s 
rich,  mellifluous  voice  coming  nearer  and  nearer,  ringing  out  as  in 
the  time  before  the  Trial,  hymning  the  great  joys  of  the  synagogue. 

Conatus  ran  up  by  the  stairway  at  the  side  wall  of  the  court, 
and  so  to  his  cubiculum.  He  cast  his  olden  garments  off,  and  put  on 
fresher,  and  leaped  and  capered  like  a  young  he-goat,  and  put  his 
fists  up  in  the  manner  of  pugilists,  and  battered  first  this,  then  that, 
airy  and  insubstantial  opponent — as,  to  wit,  Potus,  Ebrius,  Tepor, 
Cessatio,  Prodigus,  and  even  Ophidion  (the  father  of  fools)  himself. 

Then  he  sate  down,  and  indited  an  epistle  to  Christopherus — 
Christopherus,  who  had  known  this  very  long  time  (but  Simon  not  at 
all)  that  Conatus  and  Trivialis  were  one  and  the  same  very  man. 

. And,  in  those  days,  Sarcogenes,  which  was  also  Ophidion, 

set  on  foot  (but  by  merest  indirections)  movements  among  the  Chris¬ 
tians  in  Rome,  looking  toward  the  conversion  of  Simon.  He  said  to 
them  he  sent,  4 1  If  ye  get  him  to  be  a  Christian,  see  ye  unto  it  that  he 
falleth  away  from  righteousness.  Teach  him,  in  the  very  bosom  of 
the  Church,  lust,  polygamy,  theft,  lying,  the  rapine  of  whole  prov¬ 
inces,  fearfullest  murders.  Justify  ye  all  these  things  by  distorting 
the  sense  of  the  Scriptures,  in  especial  the  olden,  which  lendeth  itself 
more  readily  to  distortion  in  these  matters  than  doth  the  new.  ’  ’ 


424 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


And  Simon  was  driven  the  farther  away  even  from  the  elder 
books  themselves  by  these  indelicate  and  basely  founded  efforts  on 
the  part  of  Ophidion.  For  he  saw  clearly  in  them  Ophidion’s  hand. 
He  waved  the  secret  agents  aside,  saying :  ‘  ‘  Have  not  I  a  good  re¬ 
ligion?  And  do  I  trouble  any  of  you,  saying  that  ye  should  change 
your  religious  beliefs  because  of  the  things  which  I  believe  and  which 
ye  do  not?  Long  not  we,  the  twain  of  us,  for  the  Lord  in  the  flesh, 
the  while  thou  believest  that  He  hath  come  already,  but  I  that  He  is 
still  to  come  ?  And  why  dost  thou  say  I  bore  J esus  ’  cross,  when  it  is  no 
such  thing?”  Every  man  went  away,  as  it  were  sorrowing. 

And  Cliristopherus  and  Nea  Diatheka  also  came  often  unto 
Simon ’s  gates,  attended  both  by  J oy  and  Cheerfulness,  but  these  were 
not  admitted.  The  heart  of  the  Jew  was  filled  with  a  strange  fire, 
and  his  bowels  yearned  for  his  friend  and  his  own  sons,  yet  would  he 
nowise  look  upon  either  Cliristopherus  or  them.  But  he  said,  4 ‘The 
man  is  an  idolater:  he  believeth  on  three  gods — the  Father,  the  Son, 
and  the  Holy  Spirit.  Also,  was  he  not,  in  a  very  true  manner  of  say¬ 
ing,  the  cause  of  my  speaking  out?” 

In  those  days,  also,  came  to  Simon’s  house  Philautia,  searching 
for  the  secret  of  eternal  life.  She  said  unto  him,  “I  want  not  life 
eternal  for  any  but  myself  and  Caesar.  For  who  are  others  that  I 
should  look  out  for  them  a  thing  so  precious?” 

But  she  went  away  disconsolate. 

And  it  was  said  for  years  that  the  reason  why  Caesar’s  Selfishness 
would  not  remain  on  the  side  of  the  Jew  was  that  she  had  come  and 
looked  upon  him  and  spoken  with  him,  and  had  gone  away  saying: 
“He  also,  like  myself,  is  still  seeking  for  the  secret,  which  is  yet,  as 
he  understandeth  it,  to  be  brought  into  the  world  by  a  certain 
Messiah.”  And  when  she  had  learned  that  another  sect  of  the  Jews 
(for  so  the  Komans  called  the  Christians)  had  declared  that  Jesus, 
already  come,  was  the  Messiah,  and  when,  also,  she  had  heard  about 
a  great  evangelist  of  that  sect  named  Christopherus,  she  went  to  him 
(but  a  long  time  after  the  trial  of  Simon)  and  inquired,  saying: 
‘  ‘  Hast  thou  the  secret  of  eternal  life  ?  ’  ’ 

He  said,  “Wast  thou  not  at  Simon’s  trial?” 

She  spake  and  answered  him,  “Truly  I  was  there,  but  I  have  had 
so  much  to  think  over  in  connection  with  myself  and  Caesar  since  that 
time  that  I  do  not  rightly  remember  the  things  that  were  there  said. 
Only  this  I  do  remember,  to  wit,  that  the  Jew  is  declared  by  certain 
ones  to  have  the  secret  of  eternal  life.” 

Said  then  Christopherus,  “Both  the  Jew  and  Jesus,  and,  after 
them  twain,  I.” 


A  PROMINENT  MAN 


425 


4 ‘Thou!  Thou!  Thou  hast  the  secret?” 

“Even  so.  I  have  it.” 

She  looked  in  his  eyes,  and  saw  he  spake  truth,  for  she  beheld  the 
light  eternal  within  him.  She,  therefore,  said  over  and  over:  “Tell 
me  the  secret  of  eternal  life.  ’  ’  But  he,  each  time :  ‘  ‘  Sell  all  thou  hast 
and  give  it  to  the  poor,  and  be  humble,  and  follow  Jesus,  which  is 
the  Christ.” 

Then  she:  “I  wish  no  happiness  for  others  than  myself,  either 
here  or  elsewhere,  but  only  for  me,  and  for  Caesar,  which  is  myself. 
But  tell  me  thy  secret  of  a  surety,  0  happy  man,  and  I  will  recom¬ 
pense  thee  with  mountains  of  gold.” 

He:  “Were  I  to  sell  the  secret,  then  should  both  thou  and  I  lose 
it  utterly.” 

And  she  believed  that  he  mocked  her,  because,  by  her  nature,  she 
could  not  understand  the  veritable  secret  of  life  eternal.  So  she  went 
away  in  sore  heaviness  of  heart  and  eternal  despair. 

But  Trochus,  on  his  part,  finding  out  at  length  Christopherus,  be¬ 
came  a  convert  to  Christianity.  Much  he  labored  by  the  side  of 
Christopherus,  until,  indeed,  he  perished,  being  happy  all  the  days, 
for  that  he  had  found  the  secret  of  life  eternal. 

And  Trochus  loved  the  Jew,  and  would  have  spoken  unto  him,  but 
that  the  Jew  suffered  him  not,  partly  because  of  the  veil  which  was 
over  his  heart,  and  partly  because  of  his  great  business  with  Caesar. 

For,  in  consequence  of  the  luxury,  vice  and  extravagance  of  the 
Court,  and  the  many  drains  which  were  therefore  made  upon  the 
peoples,  and  which  were  more  than  these  could  in  any  wise  bear,  a 
fearful  sedition  had  arisen  among  them,  and  Caesar’s  house  was 
threatened,  yea  and  his  very  life  itself.  And  Simon  went  unto  the 
rescue  of  Caesar  even  as  aforetime,  but,  on  this  occasion,  to  a  far 
greater  extent  and  far  higher  degree  than  ever  before,  pouring  out  in 
the  lap  of  Caesar  such  a  treasury  of  gems  and  moneys,  and  of  docu¬ 
ments  more  precious  than  either,  that  the  spirit  of  all  the  world  went 
into  a  delirium  of  joy,  and  forgot  himself  and  fell  down  on  the  floor 
and  worshipped  the  Jew’s  money,  saying :  “Salvation  is  of  the  Jews.” 
Then  was  Simon’s  heart  glad.  He  thought:  “I  am  safe  forever.” 

And  Caesar  declared  and  ordained  him  for  a  comes  principis, 
“companion  of  the  highest.” 

Said  Simon  to  himself  then,  “It  is  settled.  I  will  complete  a 
transaction  I  long  have  had  in  mind,  and  the  plans  for  which  I 
shaped  on  that  miserable  day  in  the  viridarium,  when  my  soul  was  so 
troubled.  ’  ’ 


426 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


He  carried  out  his  plans,  and  went  back  into  his  domus,  and 
called  Conatus,  saying :  ‘  ‘  Conatus,  I  have  bought  Ophidion,  Ophidion 
and  his  household,  yea  and  his  domus  too,  which  abutteth  upon  mine. 
These  own  I.  I  have  bought  them.  I  have  paid  for  them.  Their 
title  is  in  me.  Rejoice  therefore,  and  let  not  metes  nor  limits  be 
placed  upon  thy  rejoicing.  For  behold,  I  am  even  a  companion  of  the 
Prince,  great  Csesar.  And  I  own  Ophidion !” 

But  Conatus  said  softly  and  all  of  a  tremble,  “Master!  I  fear,  I 
fear !  Master,  I  fear !  When  Caesar  permitteth  unto  any  one  such  a 
thing — I  do  fear!” 


CHAPTER  L 

As  the  Sparks  Fly  Upward 

There  were,  in  those  days,  signs,  significations,  and  portents. 
Arms  were  heard  clashing  in  the  sky.  A  lion,  loose  from  the  viva¬ 
rium,  ran  about  the  Forum  whining  piteously  and  harming  no  one. 
In  the  country  cattle  had  spoken,  blood  had  flowed  from  wells. 
Wolves,  coming  into  the  city  (Apollo  knoweth  whence)  had  howled 
about  the  temple  of  Jupiter  Capitolinus  for  a  night.  The  brazen  and 
marble  statues  in  all  the  heathen  temples  had  shed  tears  and 
sweated  blood. 

And  swifter  indeed  than  a  weaver’s  shuttle  passed  the  cross- 
weighted  days  of  Simon  of  Cyrene — each  bearing  him  steadily  down¬ 
ward  (so  he  sometimes  felt)  yet  each,  too,  in  some  strange  way,  with¬ 
holding  his  bones  from  destruction. 

Where  would  this  all  end  ?  When  would  come  some  final  upturn — 
or  downturn  ?  What  was  there  could  ruin  a  man  like  him  ?  he  asked ; 
again,  What  was  there  could  save  him? 

He  began  to  revert  to  certain  other  plans  he  had  formed  in  the 
viridarium. 

And  a  great  stir  and  bustle  arose  by  consequence  in  the  deeps  of 
his  house ;  yea,  in  the  deeps  of  all  his  house  arose  a  great  commotion. 
There  was  many  a  hurried  consultation  with  Conatus  and  with  lesser 
supervisors.  While,  apparently,  the  familia  of  Simon  of  Cyrene  had 
not  increased,  yet,  in  some  of  his  insulas  he  was  softly  getting  to¬ 
gether  hundreds  of  high-thewed  men — servants  they,  well  hardened 
and  rightly  understanding  all  the  arts  of  sword  and  buckler.  *  ‘  There 
is  some  great  dream  at  the  bottom  of  all  these  things,”  said  Conatus, 
and  wondered. 


A  PROMINENT  MAN 


427 


And  Simon  enlarged  his  house  continually,  and  filled  it  with  more 
and  ever  more  servants,  and  these  toiled  day  and  night — that  the 
beautiful  idea  which  lay  in  the  mind  of  Simon  of  Cyrene  might  on  a 
day  be  accomplished.  So  he  dreamed  and  toiled  and  drave,  and 
drave  and  toiled  and  dreamed.  And  the  hours  and  the  months  ran  by 
as  handfuls  of  sand. 

And  all  the  houses  that  were  round  about  his  own,  these  became 
Simon’s  also.  And  still  he  built  more  houses. 

And  still  he  dreamed  and  toiled  and  drave,  and  drave  and  toiled 
and  dreamed.  And  a  part  of  the  world  cried,  “Simon  of  Cyrene 
hath  gone  mad!”  Others  answered,  “Yea,  for  gold.  Have  we  not 
always  said  unto  you,  he  is  of  kin  with  Alukah?” 

But  none  of  the  peoples  appeared  to  know,  or  at  least  in  any  wise 
to  understand,  the  great  Jew’s  dream,  which  was  brighter  than  the 
shiningest  gold. 

And  so  the  Jew  toiled  and  drave  and  dreamed,  and  dreamed  and 
toiled  and  drave. 

And  hardest  of  all  he  drave  the  servants  of  Ophidion,  for  he  hated 
that  man  and  his  house.  Yea,  even  though  the  house  was  the  house 
of  himself  now,  still  hated  he  them. 

He  said  often  to  his  supervisors,  “Lay  the  work  most  heavily  of 
all  upon  the  house  of  Ophidion,  for,  even  though  it  be  mine  own  house 
also,  yet  it  is  very  hateful  unto  me,  because  of  all  that  I  have  en¬ 
dured.” 

The  supervisors  obeyed,  laying  the  tasks  most  heavily  on  Ophid¬ 
ion  and  on  all  his  house,  for  that  their  master  had  suffered  heavily 
from  that  house  in  former  days. 

And  Simon  of  Cyrene  prospered  as  had  he  a  Midas  touch  in  both 
his  hands — and  yet  a  great  fear  lay  ever  in  his  heart  together  with 
his  dream. 

What  about  Caesar?  What  about  Borne?  Mines — amphitheaters 
— crosses —  Poor  factor  merely,  why  dost  thou  dream  thou  art  rich 
in  thine  own  right? 

Whenever  the  Jew  went  upon  the  Forum — which  he  did  like  a  re¬ 
morseless  emblem  of  eternal  energy — people  stopped  and  pointed  him 
out  to  one  another,  saying :  ‘  ‘  That  is  he.  ’  ’  Others  said,  1 1  Cassar  is  a 
sharp  one.”  Also,  “The  Jew  will  get  what  he  deserves.”  “Pig!” 
“Usurer!”  “Extortioner!”  “Formalist!”  “Fool!”  Even  his  an¬ 
cient  patrons,  Nummus  and  Praesens  Pecunia,  began  to  whisper 
strange  things  about  him  and  to  wonder  what  would  come  in  “the 
Jew’s  next  great  caravan  of  solid  dreams.”  “His  eye,”  said  they, 
“is  filling  with  preternatural  light.  He  talketh  in  the  very  Basilica 


428 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


of  iEmilius  as  if  to  imaginary  buyers.  Sometimes  he  giveth  orders 
as  though  to  legionaries.”  “The  man  imagineth  he  is  Caesar,”  said 
many. 

And,  indeed,  Simon  did  often  declare  in  his  heart:  “Thou,  0  Cae¬ 
sar  !  From  thee  I  will  wrest  thy  bright  throne  itself,  but  I  will  do  the 
thing  I  purpose.” 

And  all  the  world  grew  more  and  more  in  awe  of  Simon.  When¬ 
ever  he  appeared  in  the  streets  or  Forum,  a  lane  of  wondering  heads 
was  made  for  him,  and  lips  grew  silent. 

Yet  ever  the  double-tongued  belied  him,  and  the  single-tongued 
abused  him  straightforwardly. 

Sometimes  a  riot  arose  on  account  of  the  Cross-bearer,  and  once 
an  angry  multitude  surrounded  him  (in  the  presence,  too,  of  Nummus 
and  Praesens  Pecunia)  there  upon  the  very  Forum,  and  voices  de¬ 
clared  that  Simon  of  Cyrene  ought  to  die,  for  that  any  man  grown 
rich  as  he,  must  have  done  nothing  useful,  but  must  perforce  have 
taken  his  money  from  the  poor — or  else  have  starved  his  servants,  or 
(if  it  be  not  wholly  unthinkable)  have  robbed  Caesar.  Do  not  even 
Alukah  and  Gannab  the  same  ?  ’  ’ 

Then  a  voice  in  the  crowd  cried  out,  ‘  ‘  He  hath  instituted  immense 
plans  of  commerce,  which  have  enriched  both  Rome  and  the  far  dis¬ 
tant  world.  Is  he  himself  entitled  to  nothing?”  Simon  thought  the 
voice  the  voice  of  Christopherus,  but  he  could  not  see  the  man.  And 
he  recalled  then  that,  somewhere,  he  had  heard  that  Christopherus 
also  had  had  a  trial  before  Caesar,  and  before  the  multitudes  of  this 
world.  He  wondered  how  it  had  happened  that  he,  Simon,  had  not 
been  present  at  that  trial,  even  as  Christopherus  had  been  present  at 
his. 

Just  at  this  moment,  a  number  of  people  were  shouting:  “Down 
with  him!  Away  with  him!  He  is  a  fool!” — meaning  both  Chris¬ 
topherus  and  Simon. 

Then  some  cried,  ‘  ‘  The  soldiers !  The  soldiers  of  Caesar !  ’  ’ 

And  they  fled,  every  man  of  them,  for  it  was  the  common  impres¬ 
sion  among  the  multitudes  that  Simon  (though  not  Christopherus) 
was,  at  this  time,  the  friend  of  Caesar. 

But  Christians,  whenever  they  gazed  on  the  eyes  of  Simon  of 
Cyrene,  forgot  both  time  and  place,  and  beheld  alone  old  prophecies. 

As  for  the  servant,  Conatus,  he  looked  upon  his  Master  daily  with 
greater  and  greater  devotion.  He  recognized  indeed  the  free  choice 
which  he  had  himself  exercised  in  staying  with  his  Master,  as  well  as 
the  fearful  coercion  which  destiny  had  wielded  over  Simon  of  Cyrene 
— to  make  of  the  Jew  so  shining  a  man  and  so  shining  a  mark  for 


A  PROMINENT  MAN 


429 


Caesar  and  for  the  world.  “Poor  bearer  of  the  cross  and  of  Caesar’s 
gold!  Thou  art  really  very  poor,  0  Crucifer  Aureatus.  Jesus  him¬ 
self  was  not  poorer  than  thou.  Pitiable  Simon!” 

Often  he  looked  not  at  his  Master  at  all,  but  beyond  him — at  some¬ 
thing  the  Master  could  not  see. 

Then  again  there  was  the  great  desire  to  the  which  he  could  never 
give  utterance.  Would  not  the —  He  wanted  the  “wonderful  thing” 
(for  so  he  still  called  it)  the  wonderful  thing  of  things  to  happen. 

And  Conatus,  in  those  days,  felt  always  bewildered  and  expec¬ 
tant,  had  a  sense  of  waiting — for  he  knew  not  what. 

His  dumb  fear  sometimes  caused  him  to  stand  at  gaze,  when  he 
should  have  been  at  work.  He  seemed  to  be  ever  listening,  listening, 
with  more  and  more  attentive  ear  for  some  world-assault  on  the  out¬ 
ermost  door  of  Simon  of  Cyrene. 

And  Simon  himself  sometimes  declared  in  his  soul  that  his  days 
were  counted.  Yet  again  he  shouted  in  ecstasy,  “I  have  never  borne 
one  load,  I,  Abraham’s  son.  More  worlds!  Mine  arms  are  full  of 
pristine  energy,  mine  heart  with  happy  hope.  Come  intrigues,  com¬ 
batants,  competitions,  plotters,  profound  problems  and  prophecies, 
shipwrecks,  Sarcogeneses,  Caesars!” 

And  when,  as  happened  on  other  occasions,  he  listened  and  lis¬ 
tened  for  something  to  come  at  his  outermost  door  (a  predestined 
sound,  as  it  were,  or  something  which  hath  not  a  name,  perchance 
because  no  rightful  word  can  ever  be  found  to  express  it)  then  the 
man  shouted  not  at  all,  but  only  whispered:  “I  am  but  the  tool,  the 
feeble  instrument  of  time  and  space.”  He  felt  on  some  occasions 
that  his  downfall  was  to  be  a  sudden  leap,  then  again  a  slow  descent 
amid  ever-thickening  shadows. 

At  such  times  he  companied  much  with  one  of  his  own  familia, 
Abjectio  (Self-abasement),  also  with  the  sisters  of  this  man,  Poeni- 
tentia  (Repentance)  and  Humilitas  (Humility).  He  did  not  know 
that  these  people  were  all  Christians ;  he  understood  too  little  of  the 
sect  to  guess  the  truth.  He  only  knew  that,  whenever  he  was  among 
them,  he  felt,  at  times,  a  great  pleasure  which,  in  the  presence  of  the 
Romans,  he  would  have  been  too  proud  to  acknowledge. 

Then  again  he  tried  to  make  himself  believe  that,  somehow,  Jesus 
was  responsible  for  all  his  sufferings.  Spite  of  these  endeavors,  he 
could  not  quite  blame  Jesus— -feeling  all  the  while  that  his  own  execu¬ 
tion  drew  anigh,  and  that,  somehow,  he  too,  like  Jesus  (yet  in  a  dif¬ 
ferent  wise  also)  had  been,  from  the  beginning,  destined  as  a  sacrifice 
to  many  people.  He  called  up  ancient  prophecies,  which  now  seemed 
to  apply  either  unto  him  or  unto  Jesus,  and  with  almost  equal  apti- 


430 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


tude.  “  ’Tis  well/’  said  he,  “0  Jesus,  that  thou  wast  a  Jew,  for  thou 
hast  been  at  least  as  a  type  of  many  others  of  our  people — poor, 
cast-out  sheep,  fit  only  for  heathen  sacrifices.  0  dumb,  long-driven 
Israel!  0  Lord!  0  Adonai,  Adonai!  Canst  thou  not  come  in  the 
flesh?  Blessed  is  He  that  is  yet  to  appear  in  the  name  of  Adonai.” 

He  was  ever  busy,  Simon  of  Cyrene,  in  those  curious  days,  as  hath 
been  already  said,  with  some  immense  but  unknown  task.  Yet  ever 
his  eyes  were  vacant  in  a  dreaming  also,  for  he  dreamed  and  dreamed 
as  he  worked.  And  ever  the  dream  and  the  work  ran  on  together, 
like  the  busy  flowing  of  the  little  brook,  Kedron,  and  the  tune  it  made 
in  the  sweet  valley  of  J ehosaphat. 

And  the  thing  which  mostly  troubled  the  man  from  Cyrenaica,  in 
those  days,  was  not  even  the  nameless  fear  of  the  coming  of  an  un¬ 
named  sound,  or  of  an  emissary,  or  of  a  rapidly  growing  body  of  emis¬ 
saries  or  of  terrible  groups  of  unnamed  sounds  at  the  outermost  door 
of  his  insula.  But  that  which  troubled  him  most  was  his  ever-in¬ 
creasing  loneliness  and  feeling  of  being  different  from  other  men. 
There  was  no  more  desolate  way  between  the  eternities  than  that  which 
Simon  of  Cyrene  trod  alone.  He  struggled  to  make  himself  like  other 
people.  But  the  more  he  struggled,  the  more  he  became  quite  dif¬ 
ferent — this  atheist  which  loved  Adonai  and  had  borne  Christ’s 
cross.  One  after  another,  this  door  and  that  was  closed  to  his  tragic 
intimacies.  Poor  expatriate!  Poor  wanderer!  Poor  outcast  even 
from  the  hearthstone  of  himself,  for  behold,  his  very  slaves  do  call 
him  “different.” 

And  the  feeling  of  his  likeness  to  Christ  grew  stronger  and 
stronger  on  Simon  of  Cyrene — not  a  likeness,  to  be  sure,  in  the  matter 
of  extreme  perfection,  and  divinity  of  patience  under  sufferings 
greater  than  flesh  and  blood  could  endure.  Only — a  likeness.  At  all 
events,  he  had  borne  Christ’s  cross,  and,  ever  since,  had  been  in  an 
agony  of  heart  and  mind  for  the  fact.  Via  dolorosa  through  all  the 
years  of  his  existence!  Selah! 

And  ever  the  work  and  the  dream  went  on  together.  What  was 
the  dream? 

On  a  day  he  called  Conatus,  saying:  “Thou  art  o’erwatched.  I 
will  give  thee  therefore  freedom  for  the  Saturnalia.  Even  as  a  free¬ 
dom  is  given  to  the  servants  of  Bomans,  so  give  I  unto  thee  thy  free¬ 
dom  now.” 

And  Conatus  went  to  a  meeting-place  of  Christians  (but  was  there, 
of  purpose,  too  early  and  in  great  solitude).  So,  in  the  solitude,  he 
preached  with  fervor  to  empty  chairs.  Never  could  he  gird  up  cour- 


A  PROMINENT  MAN 


431 


age  enough  to  preach  unto  actual  people ;  and  when,  at  length,  people 
began  to  come  in,  he  fled  backward  out  of  the  place. 

And  he  fared  home  sore  awearied. 

Then  said  Simon  unto  him,  “For  this,  that  thou  lookest  so  sor¬ 
rowful,  and  yet  art  faithful  unto  me,  I  will  tell  thee  now  of  my  great 
dream,  Conatus.  But  see  that  Caesar’s  attention  is  called  not  to  the 
dream.  Perchance  he  may  care  little.  Yet  again — I  fear,  I  doubt. 
He  hath  other  and  far  more  grievous  affairs  against  me,  as  thou  well 
knowest— the  speaking  out  as  concerning  Jehovah,  and  much  else — 
and  yet  this — 

“Conatus,  believest  thou  in  the  scriptures  of  my  people,  them  that 
prophesied  of  old?” 

Said  Conatus,  faintly :  “  I  believe,  ’  ’  and  he  once  more  would  have 
spoken  unto  his  Master  fully,  but  was  yet  afeard.  Still,  he  said  in 
his  heart:  “Pray  God  the  wonderful  thing  may  happen — the  mir¬ 
acle.” 

But  Simon  said  only,  “My  dream  is  this,  to  carry  out  some  of  those 
beautiful  prophecies  of  old.  What  the  Lord  hath  said  to  the  world 
by  the  mouths  of  Amos,  Joel,  Isaiah  and  Jeremiah,  yea  and  of  others 
that  were  also  wise  and  holy,  that  seek  I  to  fulfill.  I  go  to  recover  the 
Land:  for  I  am  weary  and  homesick.  What  thinkest  thou  of  the 
dream  ?  ’  ’ 

Conatus  stood  before  his  Master  thunderstricken.  Yea,  he  would 
truly  (an  he  could)  have  said  to  him  that  Israel  had  already  been 
restored  by  the  founding  of  the  Church  at  Pentecost,  the  which,  on 
a  day,  would  conquer  all  this  world,  both  rich  and  poor  and  low  and 
high  and  mighty  and  noble  and  learned  and  unlearned,  and  that  then 
the  spear  should  become  a  pruning-hook  and  the  sword  a  plough¬ 
share.  And  Jesus  should  reign  forever.  “What  matter,”  he  would 
have  said  to  Simon,  “that  thou  shouldst  take  the  dust  and  soil  called 
Palestine?  In  the  ages  which  are  to  come  that  land  may  be  taken 
and  retaken  a  hundred  times,  but  the  prophecies — they  have  already 
been  fulfilled  in  Christ,  his  church.”  But  the  man  trembled,  and 
said  nothing. 

But  Simon,  the  Master,  attending  not  to  the  embarrassment  of 
Conatus,  spake  on  to  his  servant  like  a  man  in  ecstasy:  “Knowest 
thou  not,”  said  he,  “that  the  sons  of  Abraham  cannot  be  preserved 
as  a  nation  save  in  that  very  Land  only  ?  And  behold  the  birds  which 
fly  above  this  court,  the  birds  of  passage  up  among  the  clouds !  Hath 
not  God  placed  in  their  hearts  a  longing  for  one  certain  land?  And 
so  hath  it  been  with  us,  0  Conatus.  Thou  knowest  not  the  Jew.  Am 
I  a  Roman,  a  Greek?  Belong  I,  as  a  citizen,  in  this  city,  I  or  any  of 


432 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


my  brethren  ?  Do  not  the  peoples  of  all  the  other  nations  drop  their 
heads  as  I  pass,  and  say,  each  unto  each:  ‘He  is  different.  He  is  a 
Jew.  He  is  not  of  us.’?  Yea,  that  do  they,  and  so  it  shall  he,  by 
God!  And  as  Greeks  have  Greece,  and  Romans  Rome,  and  even  the 
birds  of  passage  know  the  place  the  whereunto  they  belong  by  the 
will  of  the  Creator,  so  coveteth  the  Jew  his  only  house  upon  this  earth. 
Not  all  the  spears  and  swords  of  Ceesar  can  prevail  against  the  Jew, 
for  he  goeth  by  the  will  of  the  Word.” 

Conatus  looked  on  his  Master  with  pity  quite  infinite.  He  said, 
“0  Master,  what  thou  wiliest  I  will  help  to  do.  Whither  thou  goest, 
thither  will  I  also  go.  But — Master — Caesar — he  is  strong — he — shap- 
eth  destinies — he — 99 

“But  in  the  day,  Conatus,  when  thou  and  I  are  also  strong,  we 
then  will  shapen  our  own  destinies.  For  behold!  The  Lord  is  with 
•us!” 

“He  is  also  with  Caesar,  0  Master.  God  shapeth  the  destinies  of 
men  through  thee,  and  through  Caesar,  and  even  through  me  (though 
that  is  very  little)  and  also  through  each  and  every  one  of  us.  Let 
us  not — I  fear — but  I  will  do  those  things  thou  wishest,  as  ever  I 
have  done.” 

4  ‘  Do,  then,  the  things  I  tell  thee,  and  all  shall  be  well.  ’ 1 

And  the  house  of  Simon  of  Cyrene,  day  by  day,  was,  to  all  out¬ 
ward  seeming,  like  a  grave,  but  yet,  within,  there  were  only  excitement 
and  interminable  labors. 

And  Simon  went  upon  the  Forum  as  of  old.  Going  forth  one  day 
he  findeth  that  a  certain  caravan  of  his  hath  come  up  out  of  the 
deserts  of  the  South  to  Mauretania,  bearing  a  million  million  rubies, 
the  like  of  each  whereof  had  never  been  seen  upon  this  world  before. 
He  said,  repeating  the  prophet  Jeremiah:  “As  one  gathereth  eggs 
that  are  forsaken,  so  have  I  gathered  all  the  earth.  ’  *  And  the  peoples 
did  marvel  because  of  the  wealth  of  Simon  of  Cyrene.  Even  Caesar 
came  up  in  his  litter,  there  upon  the  Forum,  and  gave  the  Jew  a  sweet 
kiss,  and  wished  him  quite  well  of  his  treasures. 

Whereat  the  heart  of  the  Jew  sank,  for  he  had  heard  (and  knew 
partly  from  experience)  that  the  kiss  of  Cassar  ever  boded  ill  for  him, 
whosoever  that  might  be,  which  did  receive  it.  But  he  felt  of  the 
pearl  in  the  flesh  of  his  strong  arm,  and  was  better  comforted. 

And  as  he  went  back  home,  he  met  certain  of  his  ancient 
enemies,  to  wit,  them  of  olden  Cyrenaica,  and  of  Egypt,  Sinai,  also 
Petra,  yea  Palestine  itself.  He  threw  these  men  a  Roman  greeting, 
then  one  in  their  own  fair  tongues.  Still  they  spake  not,  or  answered 
by  gesture,  but  passed  lowering. 


A  PROMINENT  MAN 


433 


He  went  to  his  house,  and  Conatus  said:  “Knowest  thou  that  Sen¬ 
eca,  the  moral  philosopher,  hath  gone?  Csesar  sent  him  word  that 
he  should  open  his  veins.  Therefore  is  he  gone.” 

And,  in  those  latter  days,  in  accordance  with  many  prophecies, 
there  were  secret  meetings  of  the  Christians,  secret  especially  from 
Sarcogenes  and  for  the  avoidance  of  disastrous  persecutions — the 
which,  however,  when  it  was  needful  for  to  do,  they  bore  right  sweetly 
for  Christ ’s  sake.  ‘  ‘  Let  us  indeed  be  as  wise  as  serpents,  ’  ’  said  a  cer¬ 
tain  elder  at  a  meeting,  using  the  words  of  Christ,  “yet,  in  adversity 
(as  in  prosperity)  faithful  to  Jesus  also. 

“Woe,  woe,  woe,  unto  them  which  do  us  these  evil  things,  but  let 
us  bear  all  patiently  for  Christ’s  sake,  who  died  to  save  us. 

“And  now  I  would  warn  you  once  again  concerning  Sarcogenes, 
which,  rightly  named,  is  Ophidion.  Keep  him  away  from  your  meet¬ 
ings,  all,  so  far  as  it  lieth  in  your  power.  For  he  teacheth  many  in¬ 
iquitous  doctrines.  For  ensample,  that  all  may  be  saved  by  solely 
the  observance  of  some  or  another  form,  and  without  regard  to  the 
way  of  their  lives.  He  teacheth  also  that  Jesus  was  not  divine,  but 
only  the  best  of  mortal  men — as  if,  forsooth,  seeing  that  Jesus  fully 
taught  His  own  divinity,  He  could,  if  that  were  a  base  lie,  be  the  best 
of  men  or  in  any  wise  good.  ’  ’ 

When  the  elder  had  finished,  there  arose  one  called  Criticus. 
Criticus  said,  “I  have  here  a  letter  belonging  to  this  body,  and  which 
came,  or  is  said  to  have  come,  from  the  apostle,  Paul.  But  my  friend, 
Censorius,  and  I,  having  examined  the  document,  do  now  report  that, 
though  the  matter  thereof  is  interesting  and  probably  of  some  value, 
yet  that  it  is  not  by  one,  but  by  several,  and  they  very  different,  hands ; 
for,  on  a  certain  page,  the  writing  leaneth  to  the  left,  while,  on  an¬ 
other,  to  the  right,  and  yet  again  the  letters  and  the  words  stand 
wholly  upright.  Again,  the  ink  with  which  this  letter  was  written  is 
not  the  same  in  all  places.  Think  what  that  means.  Believe  ye  that 
any  man,  writing  one  single  epistle,  though  of  many  sheets,  would  ever 
exchange  his  ink  for  any  other?  It  is  our  opinion,  0  disciples  of 
Christ,  that  the  letter  is  a  fabrication  and  by  many  hands,  and  that 
often  the  fabricators  did  change  their  ink  abominably. 

“Then  again,  the  quality  of  the  parchment  of  this  letter  is  not 
quite  the  same  in  every  sheet.  Some  of  the  sheets  are  from  Pergamus, 
some  from  Tyre,  others  again  from  Sicily.  Think  ye  it  probable  that 
any  one  man  would  use  three  differing  kinds  of  parchment  in  a  single 
letter?  It  is  unthinkable. 

“From  all  which  matters,”  went  on  Criticus,  “  (each  one  of  them 


28 


434 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


certain)  it  is  highly  probable  that  (1)  The  epistle  is  not  from  Paul. 
(2)  It  is  a  base  fabrication  by  some  pernicious  person  or  persons, 
who  hath  some  ill  will  toward  Christ.  (3)  It  is  not  the  result  of 
malice,  or  any  intention  to  deceive,  but  of  pure  ignorance,  the  fabri¬ 
cators  not  at  all  understanding  what  they  wrote.  (4)  That  St.  Paul 
never  existed.  (5)  That  he  wrote,  notwithstanding,  certain  portions 
of  the  letter,  but  these  not  very  important.  (6)  That  he  never  saw 
Christ,  or  undertook  a  journey  to  Damascus.  (7)  That  there  never 
was  any  Christ,  but  only  Jesus,  who  was  merely  a  man  and  a  Jew. 
(8)  That  Jesus  never  existed.  (9)  That  He  was  not  a  Jew.  (10) 
That  He  was  not  crucified.  (11)  That  He  never  arose  from  the  dead. 
(12)  That  He  was  crucified,  but  did  not  arise.  (13)  That  He  arose 
but  had  not  been  crucified.  (14)  That  there  are  no  Jews.  (15) 
That  the  Jews  never  were  in  Egypt.  (16)  That  there  never  was  such 
a  man  as  Abraham,  or  Shem,  or  Noah,  or  even  Adam.  Nor  had  God 
created  the  physical  universe,  but  matter  had  always  existed  and 
nothing  else,  from  which  it  followed  inevitably  (17)  That  there  is 
no  God.” 

Then  burst  out  some  of  the  more  loving  and  devoted  among  the 
disciples,  “Ye  have  taken  away  our  faith.” 

But  Censorius  and  Criticus  answered  them,  “We  have  not  touched 
your  faith.  We  have  simply  placed  it  on  secure  foundations.  Be¬ 
fore  we  made  these  plain  investigations  into  letters  and  parch¬ 
ments — as  to  which,  it  is  fair  to  say,  we  can  in  no  one  case  agree 
with  each  other — ye  were  all  in  a  haze,  but  now  ye  do  see  perfectly.  ’  ’ 

Then  spake  Christopherus,  saying:  “I  came  unto  you  this  day 
to  speak  of  more  blessed  and  urgent  things.  But,  first,  about  this 
document.  Ye  do  see  that  the  letter  is  full  of  the  spirit  of  Christ. 
Do  fabricators  fabricate  such  things?  Whereunto?  Do  not  fabrica¬ 
tors  fabricate  devilish  matters?  Let  us  be  content  that  Christ  is 
even  in  this  missive  (and  there  is  no  one  else  that  is  like  unto  Christ) 
whatsoever  may  be  the  name  of  him,  or  of  them,  which  did  write  it.” 

At  that  there  were  shouts  and  cries  of  “Ignorant!”  “Super¬ 
stitious  !  ”  “  Not  knowing  one  letter  from  another !  ’  ’ 

Christopherus  gave  no  heed,  he  said  only :  “It  is  meet  I  say  unto 
you  a  certain  thing  as  to  them  that  are  accredited  with  bringing 
upon  us  the  direful  things  which  now  are  about  to  be.  Many  have 
said  that  the  fountain  of  our  trouble  is  this  great  Jew,  Simon  of 
Cyrenaica — he  that  liveth  on  the  borders  between  the  Subura  and 
the  Carinae.  But  I  would  assure  you,  brethren,  that  the  charge  is 
without  foundation,  for  that  this  man  is  in  deed  and  in  truth  one 
of  the  anointed  of  God.  How  strangely  have  all  prophecies  been  ful- 


A  PROMINENT  MAN 


435 


filled  in  him,  as  well  as  in  Christ!  Betah,  Azrikam,  Jeezer,  Morah, 
and  Jehovah- Jir eh !  And  it  is  not  he  which  hath  excited  the  Ruler  of 
All  this  World  against  us,  but  that  perfidious  Sarcogenes  only — The 
Lesser  Snake — he  and  perchance  Alukah. 

“And  Sarcogenes  is  a  vile  man  in  numerous  ways.  He  hath  put 
the  Old  Covenant  to  the  basest  of  uses.  Thus,  for  ensample,  he  hath 
tried  to  prove  thereby  the  rightness  of  polygamy  and  even  of  con¬ 
cubinage,  also  of  the  rightness  and  justifiableness  of  revenge — ‘an 
eye  for  an  eye,  a  tooth  for  a  tooth,’  etc.  And  all  by  torture  of  the 
language  and  strange  punishment  of  the  sense.  And  he  it  wTas  that 
did  surely  bring  to  pass  the  incarceration  of  mine  own  lovely  Nea 
Diatheka,  most  beautiful  of  women,  the  health  and  solace  of  my  soul. 
But,  as  for  Simon,  he  is  wholly  innocent  of  any  of  these  matters,  but 
hath  indeed  suffered  many  things  and  great,  on  his  own  account,  at 
the  hand  of  this  same  Sarcogenes. 

“And  many  hate  Simon  because  of  the  wiles  of  Sarcogenes,  being 
greatly  misled.  Others  detest  him  on  their  own  account,  because 
they  know  he  liveth  in  the  borders  of  mystery  and  toucheth  the  gar¬ 
ments  of  the  Most  High — he,  the  pennied  merchant,  aforetime 
unsophisticated  shepherd,  of  Cyrenaica.  Others  despise  him  for  that 
he  is  a  kind  of  poor,  merely  human,  substitute  for  the  fleshly  presence 
of  God,  the  very  reminder  and  incontestably  remaining  proof  of  His 
former  advent  and  that  yet  to  be.  This  is  the  chief  reason  why  so 
many  hate  him  so  much — the  idea  that  a  man,  a  man  like  ourselves 
yet  so  different  (an  eternal  foreigner)  should  stand  as  a  living  monu¬ 
ment  to  all  that  is  in  the  Scriptures,  or  that  we  know,  or  think  or 
dream  about  Jehovah,  Jehovah- Jesus.” 

Then  rose  many  of  the  brethren,  and,  of  their  own  motion,  gave 
glad  witness  how,  on  a  certain  time,  in  the  Basilica  of  Cassar,  at 
Caesar’s  tribunal  and  before  the  very  curule  chair,  they  had  heard 
Simon  of  Cyrene  most  closely  tried  and  sorely  interrogated,  and  that 
he  did  there  and  then  acquit  himself  like  a  great  man  and  a  true,  for 
that  he  rendered  most  earnest  testimony,  both  as  concerning  the  evil 
of  Caesar,  and  the  oneness  and  goodness  of  God,  also  of  the  very 
divinity  and  worship  of  God’s  son,  Jesus,  which  is  truly  Christ. 

Christopherus,  thereupon,  with  bright  tears  in  his  eyes,  spake 
long  concerning  his  knowledge  of  this  man,  saying:  “Was  I  not  long 
with  him  in  the  Mines  of  the  Wretched?  Did  I  not  sorely  suffer  by 
his  side  both  then  and  later  too  ?  Did  I  not  truly  love  him  as  the  best 
of  my  friends,  even  Telephilus?1  But,  for  some  wild,  imaginary  of- 


1  Perfect  Friend. 


436 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


fense  (or  so  it  seemed  to  me — the  fault  may  assuredly  have  been 
mine  own)  he  left  me  forever  at  a  shadowy  place,  where  two  ways  did 
diverge,  and  where  a  cross  stood. 

“And  long  have  I  endeavored  to  be  at  friends  with  this  Simon 
of  Cyrene,  but  ever  he  hath  confounded  me  as  being  of  that  brood  of 
hypocrites  and  pretended  Christians  only,  the  which  do  band  about 
Ophidion.  He,  therefore,  would  never  have  aught  to  do  either  with 
me  or  with  my  good  wife,  Nea  Diatheka,  or  even  with  his  own  sons, 
Simkah  and  Gheel. 

“Inasmuch,  therefore,  brethren,  as  he,  which  is  a  good  man,  and 
not  alone  of  the  physical,  but  also  the  spiritual,  Israel,  hath  been  in 
error  concerning  me,  both  as  to  my  person  and  also  as  to  my  intents, 
let  us  ourselves,  therefore,  not  in  like  manner  do  wrong  unto  him 
(which  meaneth  as  well  as  we)  confounding  him  both  with  Ophidion 
and  also  certain  of  his  own  race — as,  for  ensample,  Alukah,  the  horse¬ 
leech;  Gannab,  the  thief;  Na-aph,  the  adulterer;  Na-ash,  the  usurer; 
Keseel,  the  fool ;  and  certain  others  which,  indeed,  are  sons  of  Abra¬ 
ham,  but  only  in  the  flesh.  For  they  are  not  all  Israel  which  are  of 
Israel.  [Romans,  IX,  6.]  Some  are  Israel  in  the  flesh;  others  are  Israel 
in  God;  others  still,  like  ourselves,  Israel  in  God’s  son.  Moreover, 
there  are  crimes  with  which  this  Simon  of  Cyrene  is  charged,  of 
which  no  Jew  at  all  is  guilty — the  immolation  of  children,  the  drink¬ 
ing  of  blood,  the  poisoning  of  wells,  the  crucifixion  of  the  Host.” 

Cried  one,  “This  Simon  of  Cyrene  hath  many  faults.” 

“Yea,”  responded  Christopherus,  “but  the  Lord,  with  imper¬ 
fect  hearts,  doeth  His  own  supremely  perfect  work.” 

Then  said  Christopherus  to  the  disciples  generally  that  now  he 
must  depart  from  them,  for  that  he  was  about  to  go  upon  a  far 
journey,  even  unto  Spain,  and  likewise  unto  the  parts  about  Cyrene, 
and  unto  Asia  Minor  and  unto  Persia,  and  even  unto  Africa  again, 
into  the  Land  of  Cush.  “For,”  said  he,  “I  rest  not  long  in  any 
spot,  but  desire  to  deliver  everywhere  the  Good  News,  especially  to 
the  humble.  And  Nea  Diatheka  and  Cheerfulness  and  Joy  accom¬ 
pany  me. 

“And  wherever  I  go,  I  do  seek  to  instill  not  only  the  spirit  of 
Christ  but  also  the  better  part  of  the  heathen  learning — that  which 
deserveth  to  live,  and  which  (even  as  did  this  Simon  of  Cyrene)  I 
got,  on  a  time  long  gone,  first  from  a  Pe-Lesetau,  later  from  Lampa- 
dephorus,  of  whom  ye  have  all  heard.  .  And  the  latter  man  (as  I  have 
lately  found  out)  was  indeed  my  own  very  father.  But  this,  for  a 
long  time,  I  could  not  in  any  wise  know.” 


A  PROMINENT  MAN 


437 


He  cautioned  them  again  that  they  should  be  both  wise  and  yet 
devoid  of  harm  unto  anyone.  He  urged  them  also  that  they  have  no 
fear,  even  of  Csesar.  ‘  ‘  The  days  will  come,  ’  ’  said  he,  ‘  ‘  when,  without 
doubt,  the  most  of  us  shall  miserably  perish.  It  will  be,  I  think,  as  if 
the  end  of  the  world  were  coming — and  indeed  how  long  shall  it  be 
till  this  whole  generation  which  now  is  the  world,  is  gone — including 
Cffisar?  Yet,  one  of  the  first  that  shall  go  is  this  same  Simon,  which 
hath  been  so  much  belied  (as  well  as  misunderstood)  by  many  a  per¬ 
son  in  this  city  and  in  all  the  world,  yet  which,  of  a  truth,  should  be 
very  dear  to  every  one  of  us,  and  who,  I  doubt  not,  is  dear  indeed 
unto  Him  whose  cross  (as  mine  own  eyes  did  witness)  he  (and  not  I) 
bore  on  Calvary.” 

Then  bade  he  them  be  of  good  cheer  for  that  they  were  Christ’s. 
And  he  went  and  left  them,  and  departed  to  go  on  his  way — if  that 
he  might  be  able  to  miss  certain  toils  that  had  been  set  for  him  by 
many  of  his  ancient  enemies. 

And  Simon  of  Cyrene  also  met,  each  day  (and  whether  he  was  ac¬ 
companied  by  his  faithful  servant,  Conatus,  or  went  all  alone)  as  he 
passed  about  the  streets  and  in  the  wondering  Forum,  more  and  more 
of  his  ancient  enemies — them  from  far  Iberia  and  from  the  lands  of 
the  Vascones  and  from  Aquitania,  also  from  Gaul  and  the  parts  about 
the  Belgse,  and  from  Helvetia  also,  likewise  Germania  Barbara,  even 
Krieg  and  some  of  his  stalwart  sons.  After  these,  Ophidion,  who  was, 
in  a  sense,  a  steward  of  him,  Simon.  Ophidion  would  burst  out  in  a 
laugh. 

And  behold,  on  a  day,  the  chariot  of  Caesar,  with  Caesar  therein, 
and,  by  his  side,  the  empty-hooded  Thanatos.  And  it  seemed  that, 
when  the  hood  was  held  in  a  certain  wise,  there  was,  deep  down  in  the 
hood,  a  sinister  countenance,  laughing  secretly. 

The  multitude  acclaimed,  “ Great  Caesar!  Great  is  he!  Greater 
still  Jehovah,  and  his  priest,  Simon!  For  Caesar  himself  is  naught 
before  God.” 

Then  the  knees  of  the  Jew  grew  weak,  his  bowels  as  water,  his 
heart  failed  and  stood  still.  For  he  saw,  of  a  truth,  that  Ophidion, 
even  though  an  instrument  of  the  Almighty,  had  done  this  thing. 

Said  Cassar,  as  he  halted  before  the  Jew  and  that  multitude  which 
was  the  world:  “Am  not  I  Jehovah?  Answer  me,  Simon  of  Cyrene, 
son  of  Shem.  Am  not  I  the  Lord  of  All  this  World,  yea  and  of  that 
which  is  to  come  hereafter?” 

And  once  again,  as  on  those  long  gone  days,  the  lips  of  Simon  of 
Cyrene  were  formed  as  into  a  trumpet  of  brass,  and  the  words  of  the 
Lord  came  through  them — ‘  ‘  No !  No !  No !  ” 


438 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


Then  ran  Simon  of  Cyrene  back  to  his  brilliant  home. 

He  said  to  Conatus,  who  ran  with  him:  “Sawest  thon  not  the 
grinning  Thanatos,  as  he  sate  with  Caesar?” 

But  Conatus:  “I  saw  nothing  which  sate  by  Caesar  except  a 
bright  angel — and  at  this  I  was  sore  amazed.  And  lo !  mine  eyes,  they 
be  not  yet  unblinded  from  that  seeing.  Master,  we  vision  not  alike.  ’  ’ 

However,  Simon  dwelt  at  peace  for  a  time,  remaining  within  his 
walls. 

And  being,  on  a  day,  in  his  zotheca,  and  feeling  that  soon  his 
myriad  of  ships  would  fly  at  a  word,  both  out  of  Ostia  and  of  Gades, 
Alexandria  and  Syracuse,  Brundisium,  Rhodes  and  Apollonia,  and 
full  many  another  harbor  also,  bearing  to  Palestine  loads  of  armed 
men — being  here,  and  at  ease,  so  far  as  concerneth  the  body,  he 
thought  to  console  his  spirit  with  the  reading  of  many  a  skeptical 
philosopher.  These  writers  were  of  different  mold  from  that  sordid 
and  ignorant  fellow  which  had  come  to  him  in  Gaul,  bringing  a  sad- 
sweet  message  of  Amahnah’s  death.  And  he  read  not  even  yet  as  a 
matter  of  unbelief,  quite,  but  of  mere  amusement  only — the  which 
writings  did  show  that  the  human  mind  could  not  know  anything  at 
all,  either  of  the  world  or  how  it  was  made,  or  of  God  or  of  man,  or 
of  man’s  relation  to  his  God,  or  of  men’s  relations  unto  one  another. 

And  Simon,  the  very  while  he  pondered  on  the  skeptic  writings, 
did  love  Adonai. 

But  ever  his  fearful  spirit  grew  more  fearful,  and  his  ear  heark¬ 
ened  for  a  thing  which  he  could  not  name — being,  in  a  way,  uncertain 
as  to  what  did  constitute  the  essence  thereof. 

Then  he  went  (as  often  he  had  done  before)  saying,  “I  will  see 
if  all  be  still  in  readiness  at  the  secret  stair.”  He  pressed  upon 
the  spring  which  was  in  the  breast  of  the  statue  of  Minerva. 

And  behold,  as  always  before,  the  statue  and  its  niche  moved 
away.  And  his  eyes,  as  always  before,  beheld  a  chasm  of  unutter¬ 
able  blackness. 

Came  forth  out  of  the  blackness  a  fearful  stench. 

“0  Lampadephorus, ”  he  cried,  “the  stairway  thou  didst  build, 
the  darksome  grope  and  passage  of  a  hundred  old,  crumbling  steps 
and  one,  it  is  truly  a  noisome  retreat.  Yet  what  shall  a  man  ac¬ 
complish  if  he  hesitate  to  enter,  so  be  such  a  thing  is  needful?” 

He  felt  for  a  torch  and  means  of  lighting  it  (the  which  he  had  set 
in  their  places  on  a  former  day)  found  all  well,  and  went  back  into 
his  zotheca,  and  read  again,  out  of  the  heathen  philosopher  Lucretius : 
“For  a  god  must,  and  by  its  very  nature,  enjoy  its  immortality  with¬ 
out  change — at  an  infinite  distance,  too,  from  human  affairs  and  in- 


A  PROMINENT  MAN 


439 


capable  of  being  reached  by  any  of  them.  For,  as  a  god  is  all  suffi¬ 
cient  to  itself,  needing  nothing  and  likewise  fearing  nothing  from 
man,  it  is  neither  profited  by  good  folks’  services  nor  angered  by  the 
deeds  of  the  vicious.”  Again:  “Moreover,  anything  that  may  exist, 
either  doth  something,  or  is  obliged  to  suffer  the  doings  of  other 
things  which  these  inflict  upon  it,  or  else  it  simply  is  in  such  a  way 
that  other  things  may  exist  and  be  done  in  it.  But  nothing  can  do 
or  suffer  unless  it  have  bodily  substance,  nor  afford  a  place  for  acting 
or  suffering  unless  it  be  empty  and  vacant  space.  Nothing,  as  a  con¬ 
sequence,  can  have  existence,  save  empty  space  and  bodily  substance.  ’  ’ 
Yet  again:  “Primordial  atoms  are  of  pure  solidity,  simple,  indis¬ 
soluble,  eternal.  Unless  there  be  some  least,  some  point  at  which  di¬ 
vision  endetli,  the  smallest  bodies  that  exist  will  be  as  infinitely  com¬ 
posed  as  the  largest.  Then  there  will  be  no  difference  between  the 
greatest  bodies  and  the  smallest.  But  this  is  abhorrent  to  reason. 
Hence  it  is  necessary  one  shall  say,  There  are  bodies  which  have  no 
parts,  but  consist  of  the  least  possible  substance.  These,  therefore, 
being  indivisible  and  undiminishable,  are  also  solid  (or  without  pores) 
also  eternal.”  Once  more:  “Which  infinity  of  space  being  admitted, 
there  could  be  no  rest  for  any  of  the  primary  atoms  which  pass  eter¬ 
nally  therethrough.  Rather,  driven  by  incessant  motion,  part  of 
the  eternal  atoms,  struck  by  yet  other — ” 


CHAPTER  LI 

When  the  Gates  Lift  Up  Their  Heads 

The  sharp  ear  of  Simon  caught,  at  a  distance,  a  scurrying  sound, 
as  of  swiftly  moving  feet  over  the  atrium.  The  sounds  grew  faster, 
nearer,  rushed  up  his  stairway.  The  door  opened,  and  Conatus : 
“Master,  away!  Begone!  The  soldiers  of  Caesar!  Thou  art  in 
judgment!  Why  dost  thou  tarry?  Get  thee  gone.” 

Stepped  Simon  to  the  atrium  door,  whence  Conatus  had  fled 
quickly,  and  looked  out  over  his  great  room — his  in  the  past. 

All  was  present  as  ever  before — the  calm  impluvium  beneath  the 
sapphire  perforation  in  the  lofty  roof,  the  hypothetic  masks  of  the 
Jew’s  numerous  ancestors,  the  Attic  tumblers  laughing  and  bouncing 
on  the  pavement. 

A  light  air  fluttered  through  the  court,  swaying  the  lisping 
branches  of  the  oriental  trees.  Just  at  that  moment,  the  old  slave 
by  the  water-clock — he  with  grave,  impassive  countenance,  long  beard, 


440 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


and  scythe  of  eternal  unerringness,  called  forth,  like  a  slow,  inevitable 
machine:  “Meridies!  Meridies!  Time  passes,  yet  be  not  sad!” 

Simon  saw  in  a  quick  vision  the  solemn  plexus  of  events  which 
had  constituted  his  life. 

He  turned,  closing  the  door.  And  entered  the  space  behind 
Minerva,  and  closed  that  entrance  also.  Felt  for  his  torch,  lighted  it, 
went  the  hundred  steps  and  one  to  mystery  and  yet  further  fear  and 
also  unlimited  corruption. 

He  lifted  the  foul  sewer-lid,  and  entered  the  sewer,  and  closed  the 
way  behind  him  again. 

But  yet  again  paused  and  listened,  for  he  felt  that  some  one  fol¬ 
lowed. 

He  swept  on  through  the  dim-winding  sewers,  which  underlay, 
like  streets,  all  Rome.  Presently  he  was  lost.  Whereat,  in  confusion, 
he  dropped  his  torch  in  the  flowing  filth.  And  cried  in  an  anguish, 
“Which  is  the  way  from  corruption?” 

Then  heard  he  a  sound  as  of  one  that  plashed  behind  him. 

And  he  would  have  stricken  with  his  sweet  blade,  but  that  he 
heard  the  syllables,  “Master!” 

‘  ‘  Conatus  ?  Thou !  ’  ’ 

“I,  Master;  whither — ” 

“What  of  my  servants,  Conatus?” 

“Dead.  All,  all  are  dead  that  served  within  thy  house.  Time 
himself  lies  a-dying.” 

“And  thou?” 

“I  bleed.  The  soldiers — I  bleed — ”  The  soldiers  know  thy 
stairway.  Whatever  was  known  to  Lampadephorus  is  known  to 
Caesar.  Let  me  lean  upon  thee.  So.  I — take  me  to  the  light,  Mas¬ 
ter.  ’ 9 

1  ‘  Light  ?  Light  ?  I  know  no  light.  I  know  no  way  from  this  ut* 
ter  darkness.  My  torch  was  extinguished  in  the  filth,  and  we  are 
lost.” 

Then  said  the  servant,  “I  know  the  way.  I  have  been  here  oft 
before,  Master.” 

“Thou!”  cried  Simon.  “Conatus!  Thou?” 

“Even  I,  Conatus,  thy  servant.  For  once  I  saw  thee,  Master, 
come  down  the  stair  a  little  distance.  And  later,  being  fearful  of 
Caesar  and  him  they  call  Thanatos,  I  too  came  down  the  way  of  Min¬ 
erva,  seeking  in  heathen  beliefs  a  solace  and  refuge  from  the  terrors  of 
the  world.  I,  too,  was  lost.  And,  wandering  here  in  filth  and  dark¬ 
ness,  yet,  by  trying,  I  did  find  an  exit — yonder,  straight  ahead,  the 


A  PROMINENT  MAN 


441 


nearest  passage  and  the  straight-up  stair.  And  so  I  found  the  way 
on  the  other  times  whenas  I  came.  ’  ’ 

And  when  they  had  got  up  out  of  the  darkness  and  into  a  court  of 
half-light  which,  though  it  belonged  to  Simon,  was  yet  unknown  to 
him,  being  part  of  the  house  of  Ophidion,  then  said  Conatus:  “We 
are  not  better,  but  worse  off,  than  before  we  went  the  deep,  dark, 
stercoraceous  way.  But  hold  me  in  thine  arms,  dear  Master,  till  I 
perish.  For  lo!  it  is  nearing  the  end  of  the  ages,  and  I  come  to 
Christ.  ’ ’ 

“Christ!  Conatus,  art  thou  a  Christian V* 

“First  thou,  then  Christopherus,  then  thou  and  he  together.’ ’ 

“  I !  I !  Sayest  thou  1 1  ’  V  ’ 

“Yea,  Master.  Thou  wast  for  me  as  it  were  a  sign  from  heaven. 
And  all  the  Jews,  be  they  not  also  signs  ?  And  I,  I  have  tried  to  serve 
thee  like  a  Christian  servant.  I  have  tried.  Christ  Jesus,  I  have 
tried.  ’  ’ 

And  Simon  covered  the  man’s  face  with  his  own  splendid  gar¬ 
ment.  He  heard  the  sound  again  of  the  solitary  treadmill — that 
which  he  had  so  distantly  listened  unto  in  his  own  dim  garden.  Be¬ 
ing  in  the  deeps  of  compassion  and  of  fear  because  of  this,  that  he 
had  lost  his  servant,  he  said :  “I  will  find  the  weary  one  at  last,  and 
will  comfort  him.” 

But  the  sounds  had  ceased,  or  ere  he  had  found  the  mill.  And  the 
servant  that  had  treaded  the  mill,  lay  stretched  beside  it,  and  was 
even  as  Conatus.  And  the  servant  that  had  treaded  the  mill  was 
Amahnah,  Child  of  God,  and  God’s  peculiar  gift  to  him,  Simon. 

He  lifted  up  his  voice  then  for  Amahnah,  and,  weeping,  said :  “I 
might  have  had  thee  by  me  for  a  blessing  and  a  comfort  all  these 
many  days,  0  Amahnah,  had  I  not  been  blind.  But  it  is  even  as 
thou,  Conatus,  hast  truly  declared — the  end  of  all  things.  And  now 
the  Gift  of  God,  so  long  neglected  by  me,  is  of  no  more  life  upon  this 
earth.  ’  ’ 

It  seemed  to  him,  in  fact,  as  if  eternity  had  begun  to  envelop  him 
already.  And  then — trumpets  were  blown,  and  he  knew  well  why. 
The  full,  imperious  utterances  reverberated  from  wall  to  wall,  from 
stone  to  stone,  about  the  hostile  and  treacherous  city,  calling,  calling 
for  him,  the  Jew,  even  Simon  the  olden,  from  far-off,  sheep-filled 
Cyrenaica. 

Yet  he  said  (there  being  that  within  him  which  did  cause  that  he 
should  do  this)  :  “There  is  throb  of  life  within  me.  And  other 
servants  yet  await  me  than  those  which  be  dead  in  my  house.  Why 
should  I  die? 


442 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


4 ‘Yea,  by  the  strength  of  mine  arms,  which  the  years  have  not 
abated,  and  by  the  strength  of  the  Lord  also  that  is  still  within  me, 
and  will  work  as  once  before  it  worked  for  him  of  Gaza,  yea,  by  both 
these  things  I  swear  I  will  not  die  for  Caesar,  or  be  in  any  wise  his 
dimaehaerus,  but  will  deliver  the  Land.” 

He  went  into  the  street. 

And  behold,  Yulgus  was  there!  He  came  to  Simon,  and  was 
a-drunken. 

And  laid  hold  upon  the  J ew,  saying :  ‘  ‘  See !  I  will  try  thee  again. 
Even  as  Caesar  tried  thee,  and  as  I  did  try  Defectus  before  the  very 
gates  of  thy  house,  so  will  I  try  thee  now,  here  at  the  seat  of  sewer- 
justice.  Wait  till  I  get  up  the  lid  of  yon  sewer.” 

But  Simon,  stretching  the  man  on  the  ground,  laid  over  his  breast 
a  great  stone  which  was  there  for  building.  And  so  he  would  truly 
have  gone  to  escape,  but  that  the  soldiers,  an  innumerable  party, 
came  with  trumpets  and  weapons.  And  they  took  away  his  swords. 

They  brought  him  to  the  amphitheater,  saying:  “The  games  this 
day  are  in  honor  of  the  Emperor’s  genius,  thy  sovereign  Lord,  the 
Lord  of  All  this  World  and  that  to  come.  Thy  turn  is  not  as  yet, 
therefore  wait  in  this  cuniculum.”  So  they  departed,  leaving  a 
guard. 

And  Simon  beheld  that  he  who  guarded  was  a  treacherous  man — 
one  that  might  be  purchased,  if  but  the  way  were  seen.  Leaped  in 
his  soul  a  flame  of  hope.  Said  he  to  Jehovah:  “0  Lord,  thou  hast 
remembered  me!”  Unto  the  fellow:  “At  Ostia  and  at  Alexandria, 
at  Patmos,  Pontus,  Corinth,  Rhodes,  and  many  other  harbors,  are 
multitudes  that  await  me — if  only  I  escape  these  walls.  Therefore 
see!  If  thou  sufferest  me  to  elude  thee  and  to  give  thee  harmless 
wounds,  I  will  pay  thee  of  a  surety  a  most  excellent  pearl,  the  per- 
fectest  jewel  which  ever  the  eyes  of  avarice  grew  mad  upon — the 
price  of  fifty  Romes,  ten  thousand  Caesars.  The  dearest  gem — ” 

“Pay!”  said  the  man. 

Simon  brought  arm  and  mouth  together,  and  bit  out  the  place 
wherein  he  had  buried  the  pearl. 

The  guard  took  away  from  him  the  flesh,  and  began  to  part  it  with 
his  sword’s  point — this  way,  that,  endeavoring  to  discover  the  pearl. 

And  Simon  looked  with  bated  breath — 

For  nowhere  was  the  pearl. 

Flesh,  flesh ;  all,  all,  was  only  flesh.  Into  the  very  sluices  of  his 
own  protecting  arm  had  gone  away  the  treasure,  leaving  merely 
a  corruptible  lump. 


A  PROMINENT  MAN 


443 


The  guard  cried,  4 ‘Be  accursed l”  And  a  roll  of  thunder  sounded 
above,  as  it  were  a  great  voice  of  many  people  shouting  in  heaven. 

But  Simon  of  Cyrene  stood  amazed,  saying  only,  and  that  to  him- 
self :  ‘  ‘  Lost,  lost !  In  the  end,  my  wealth  is  merely  as  my  flesh — cor¬ 
ruption.  ’  ’ 

Then  came  from  the  amphitheater  (like  a  trumpet  of  doom)  the 
voice  of  him  that  edited  the  games:  “Simon  of  Cyrene,  dimachasrus 
splendens !  ’  ’ 

The  gates  before  him  opened,  yea  the  bars  thereof  did  turn,  dis¬ 
closing  a  way  leading  out  over  the  sands. 

Now,  as  the  man  stepped  into  the  arena,  there  came  back  to  him 
the  course  of  all  his  life;  first,  the  beginnings  of  years  in  far-off 
Cyrenaica;  then  himself  a  herder  of  his  father’s  sheep;  again  the 
mimicry  of  the  Mocker,  Trivialis — whereat  his  cheeks  did  fire;  he 
caught  once  more  the  accents  of  Jehovah,  which  he  had  heard  in  his 
father’s  tomb — “And  when  I  have  no  further  need  of  thee,  I  will 
break  thee  and  yet  keep  thee ;  ’  ’  and  then  he  saw,  coming  with  singing 
and  with  light,  the  sunny-headed  Greek,  him  that  afterward  had  be¬ 
come  his  well-loved  Master,  the  idolizer  of  intellectual  and  physical 
joys,  even  Lampadephorus  of  Athens.  Then  he  beheld  himself  al¬ 
lured  by  the  Egyptian  priestess — and  fallen ;  next,  by  her  of  Petra — 
once  more  fallen ;  yet  again  by  the  Syrian  Abaddone,  and  yet  a  third 
time  fallen.  He  saw  himself  in  the  belly  of  the  Babylonia,  a  miserable 
captive,  but  free  forever  from  idolatry;  then  a  shepherd  in  Judea 
with  Berith  and  the  children,  however  a  discarded  and  black-gowned 
priest;  next  a  disciple  of  the  strange  man,  Parush  (ten  thousand 
forms  and  mock  observances)  ;  then  there  was  Christ — once,  and  yet 
again,  yet  still  another  time  also.  He  himself,  even  Simon,  was  com¬ 
ing  from  the  country.  And  he  saw  the  cloud  of  dust  that  poured 
through  the  Gate  of  the  Gardens,  beheld  the  thundering  multitude 
that  issued  from  that  cloud,  caught  sight  of  Him  of  Nazareth,  was 
seized  and  compelled  to  carry  the  cross  (oh,  that  bitter  and  contami¬ 
nate  cross)  and  all  the  concentrated  sufferings  which  the  man  of  flesh 
and  iron  had  endured  since  Golgotha  because  of  his  carrying  up  the 
hill  the  tree  of  Christ,  shot  through  his  wrong-wracked  mind  in  one 
great  bolt  of  fire. 

Then  he  looked  about  and  became  aware  again.  He  saw  myriads 
of  heads  like  rolling  apples,  ranked  and  filed  in  the  cone-shaped  amphi¬ 
theatre.  And  all  the  innumerable  eyes  looked  down  upon  him  pitiless. 
The  heads  wagged,  their  mouths  cried  curses  on  the  Jew,  mockery  at 
his  religion.  One  came  that  gave  him  twain  weapons. 

And  he  looked  again — to  the  farthest  portion  of  the  amphitheatre. 


444 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


His  pore-blind  eyes  beheld — high  upon  his  shining  podium — great 
Caesar,  by  his  side,  Thanatos,  the  empty -hooded,  and  Ophidion,  called 
Sarcogenes. 

The  editor  of  the  games  cried  once  more:  “  Simon  of  Cyrene, 
dimachaerus  splendens,  who  will  fight  for  Caesar  with  men  from  the 
whole  earth.” 

Shouted  the  multitude,  “Let  the  man  die  for  Caesar!  Hail,  Cae¬ 
sar  !  God  Caesar,  lord  of  all  that  is  flesh !  ’  ’ 

Simon  looked  again,  and  saw  awaiting  him,  before  the  podium,  a 
horde  of  old-time  enemies;  enemies  from  East  and  enemies  from  West, 
enemies  from  South  and  enemies  from  North :  Krieg,  the  warrior- 
king  of  Germany,  and  his  many  sons;  Scythes,  the  Scythian,  and 
Hiber,  the  Spaniard;  Persa  and  Indus;  Egyptius,  Arabs,  and  Ethi- 
ops;  Spartanus,  Britannus,  as  well  as  innumerable  others — fighters 
from  all  the  fields  of  time,  standing  together  in  fatal  fellowship,  mak¬ 
ing  one  against  him,  Simon  of  Cyrene.  He  remembered  the  prophecy 
of  Jehovah- Jir eh :  “In  the  end  shall  all  the  nations  of  the  earth  be 
gathered  together  against  thee  into  one  place.”  It  was,  indeed,  as 
if  the  end  of  the  world  had  come,  for,  already  on  this  day,  multitudes 
had  perished,  and  even  Sarcogenes  and  Caesar,  they  too,  would  perish 
shortly.  And  all  this  generation,  in  its  passing,  should  be  only  a  type 
of  the  passing  of  all  peoples  yet  to  be. 

But  more  and  more,  therefore,  the  energies  of  Simon  seemed  to 
arouse  in  him  (as  had  become  his  way  before  splendid  difficulties) 
to  germinate,  to  multiply,  to  become  of  almost  infinite  extent — as 
though  the  eternal  life  that  was  surely  in  his  veins  were  being  summed 
up  utterly,  gathered  together,  focussed  and  concentrated  into  this 
one  finite,  but  supremely  determining  hour. 

Simon  stopped  in  his  course  across  the  sand,  and  cried  aloud: 
4  ‘  Is  this  my  portion  of  the  Armageddon,  Caesar  ?  Even  so  :  I  thank 
thee  for  this  opportunity.”  He  prayed,  “0  Adonai,  Adonai!  ’Tis 
I  that  love  thee  truly.  Now  that  my  handful  of  days  has  slipped 
between  my  fingers,  I  will  fight  for  thee  as  oft  I  should  have  fought 
before.  And  woe  be  unto  these  heathen,  for  I  will  offer  up  to  thee 
upon  this  day  a  sacrifice  that  shall  be  high  pleasing  to  thee.  Pre¬ 
pare,  therefore,  0  idolaters,  for  I  am  in  myself  both  Saul  and  David, 
Gideon  and  Samson,  and  a  thousand  other  dimachseri  unto  God.” 

At  this  there  stepped  forth  out  of  the  throng  of  his  enemies,  a 
stately  man  with  head  of  living  light.  He  dropped  his  swords  and 
came  up  close  with  both  hands  open,  crying:  “Brother!” 

And  the  pore-blind  Jew  did  look,  and  look,  and  look  yet  once 
again. 


A  PROMINENT  MAN 


445 


Then  said  he,  “  Christopherus !  My  brother  !” 

But  Thanatos  cried  out,  1 1  On !  On  with  the  games !  Let  the  flesh 
perish !”  And  Ophidion  echoed,  “On!  Let  me  be  a-pleasured ! ’ ’ 
And  all  the  multitude  that  filled  the  seats  of  red  and  wild  amusement 
echoed,  *  ‘  On !  On  with  the  games !  Let  Simon  of  Cyrene  fight.  ’  ’ 

But  Simon  of  Cyrene  said,  “I  have  changed  my  mind  this  hour, 
O  Caesar,  and  I  will  not  fight.  For  I  remember  well,  Christopherus, 
the  lesson  thou  hast  taught  me.  And  often  I  did  promise  me  that, 
should  we  ever  meet  again,  thy  ways  should  become  as  mine.  Be 
therefore  at  peace.  Thou  art  indeed  my  brother.  And  these,  all 
these,  though  misguided  much,  they  too  are  brothers :  I  do  love  them. 
And  so  I  do  conquer  you  all.,, 

He  lifted  up  his  swords  and  brake  their  blades.  And  behold,  the 
twain  were  hollow,  and  would  not  have  served  in  any  case.  For  so 
it  ever  is  with  the  things  of  Caesar. 

And  there  stepped  forth  out  of  the  crowd  behind  Christopherus, 
both  Nea  Diatheka  and  Cheerfulness  and  Joy.  And  Simon  knew  his 
own  children,  and  embraced  them. 

Then  gave  Caesar  command  concerning  Simon,  and  from  some¬ 
where  near  the  Lord  of  this  World  stepped  forth  one  bearing  an  in¬ 
sistent  blade. 

So,  in  a  twinkling,  it  appeared  to  the  Jew  as  if  the  great  walls 
and  all  the  substantial  universe — sand,  heads,  and  sky — had  burst  the 
bonds  that  kept  them  things  material,  becoming  nothing  but  a  mere 
luminous  dust,  or  cloud  of  disorderly  atoms.  And  the  cloud  (it 
might  have  been  a  moment  or  it  might  have  been  ten  thousand  gen¬ 
erations)  dividing  in  the  center,  disclosed  a  way  of  utter  brightness, 
a  brightness  that  was  brighter  than  the  brightness  of  the  sun  at  noon¬ 
day. 

And  lo !  at  a  certain  distance  in  the  light,  attended  by  happy 
hosts  innumerable,  who  sang  to  the  Jew  a  sweeter  welcome-song  than 
ears  of  mortal  man  could  ever  have  endured,  came  Jesus  of  Calvary, 
smiling  as  on  that  hour  when  Simon,  with  his  strong,  enduring  arms, 
took  up  the  heavy  burden  of  the  cross. 

And  when  Jesus  had  come  anear,  He  said  unto  the  man :  “Simon, 
Simon,  wilt  thou  not  come  to  me  now?” 

The  Jew  answered,  “Thou  knowest,  0  Lord,  I  would  an  if  I 
could.  But  thrice  I  did  reject  thee  utterly.  Moreover,  I  was  myself 
rejected  by  Annas,  the  great  High  Priest  in  Jerusalem.” 

Said  Christ  (and  all  the  angels  bowed  their  heads  beneath  their 
wings  to  listen)  “I  am  the  High  Priest  of  all  High  Priests,  and  I  do 
not  reject  thee.  Since  first  I  called  thee  in  thy  father’s  tomb,  thou 


446 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE 


wast  my  chief  representative  upon  earth.  Behold  the  peoples  who 
have  come  to  me  through  thee.” 

“Me  ?  Jesus!  I?” 

“Thou.  Hast  thou  not  borne  for  me  more  than  the  mere  wood 
upon  the  hill?  been  also  Abraham,  not  solely  Isaac,  unto  me?  ac¬ 
ceptable  priest,  as  well  as  perpetual  (and  perpetually  beloved)  sacri¬ 
fice?  Even  in  thine  idolatries  thou  taughtest  the  peoples  me — al¬ 
though  thou  knewest  it  not.  I  am  thine  Adonai,  whom  thou  lovest. 
See!  unto  thee  come  I.” 

And  Simon,  the  Jew,  with  his  heart  aflame,  because,  after  his  long 
life  of  so  much  bitterness,  he  had  found  the  friend  of  all  friends — 
even  Jehovah-Jesus — dropped  straightway  at  the  Savior’s  feet,  cry¬ 
ing  with  all  his  heart  and  soul  and  strength  of  mind,  even  as  the 
Lord  himself  had  predicted:  “Blessed  is  He  that  cometh  in  the 
name  of  Adonai !  ’  ’ 


THE  END 


Date  Due 


